


Water Wedding

by Atiaran



Category: Avatar: Last Airbender
Genre: Drama, F/M, Gen, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-09-11
Updated: 2006-09-10
Packaged: 2017-10-26 23:03:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 50,029
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/288875
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Atiaran/pseuds/Atiaran
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A fic dealing with Zuko's and Katara's Water Tribe wedding, and cultural and personal issues that surface between them. Zutara obviously. There might be a sequel, eventually.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Standard disclaimer:** None of the characters, places, etc. in this story are mine, but are instead the property of Michael Dante DiMartino and Brian Konietzko. No copyright infringement is intended by their use in this story.

 **Author's note:** This was inspired by a point I saw raised once about why so many Zutara fanfics featured Katara marrying into Zuko's life and not the other way around. There's an argument to be made that realistically it might be easier for Zuko to fit into the Water Tribe than for Katara to fit in as Fire Lady in a tremendously complex and strongly hierarchical court encrusted with layers of ancient ritual. (Looking at some of the struggles even modern-day commoners have had marrying into various royal houses should be a good reality check.) However, "easier" does not mean "easy."

I'll have some more extended author's notes at the end of the fic, so I'll just finish by giving a big thanks to LadyKate, who went above and beyond the call of duty in betaing this monster of a fic in a fandom she doesn't even follow. There may be a sequel coming up eventually, dealing with what happens to Zuko and Katara when they return to the Fire Nation.

This fic is dedicated to Mako Iwamatsu. Good night, Uncle Iroh. You'll be missed.

" _Lucky you were born that far away so_

 _We could both make fun of distance_

 _Lucky that I love a foreign land for_

 _The lucky fact of your existence…."_

—Shakira, "Whenever, Wherever"

"Don't worry, Zuko, I'm sure Dad will love you," Katara said unconvincingly.

The new, yet-to-be-confirmed Fire Lord said nothing, but Katara saw his eyes flicker sideways toward her, and she could tell he was nervous. They stood on the deck of one of the Fire Nation's iron boats, icebreaking their way through the cold gray seas around the South Pole; the chill wind whipped Katara's hair, cutting even through the thick furs she had wrapped around her. A glance at her betrothed, though, and Katara guessed she was suffering less than Zuko. She had been born and raised here; this cold was second nature to her, and felt like a balmy day. From the hand clasped in hers, Katara could tell that Zuko had been forced to raise his internal temperature to cope, and the energy drain looked like it was starting to tell. The fact that he was once again back in the iron Fire Nation armor—heavy and tiring to wear—probably didn't help.

"Would you like my cloak?" she offered, shaking the heavy striped tiger seal fur from her shoulders. Zuko shook his head. His full head of hair was back in the topknot, and the ends of his new ponytail swung.

"I'm Fire Nation," he said quietly, "not Water Tribe. Let your father see me for who I am." His hand tightened on hers.

"You know, he may not even be there," Katara tried to reassure him. "I heard they were going to start the seasonal whale hunts again now that the war is over, and by tradition they start on the first day of each season. The first hunt should have left by now. You might end up meeting Gran-Gran first—"

"Dad'll be there," Sokka said, from where he was leaning against the starboard rail. He gave Zuko a narrow look, which the Fire Lord in waiting did not return. It had taken a very ugly argument and Katara dunking Sokka in a well before her brother had become reconciled to the situation, and he still was not happy with it at all. He had been terse and withdrawn all the way down from the Fire Capital, spending most of his time sharpening his weapons and practicing alone. After Katara's and Zuko's Water wedding here, the two of them would be returning to the Fire Capital; they would be remarried there according to Fire Nation tradition, and then the two of them would be crowned as Fire Lord and Lady. Katara wasn't expecting that ceremony to be much fun; since the Fire Nation armies had been resoundingly defeated by the armies of the Earth Kingdom and Water Tribe, and the power of Aang the Avatar, the entire Fire Nation had been more or less under occupation by Earth and Water nationals. She wasn't sure what kind of reception a Water Tribe woman would find there, especially one who was wedding the Fire Lord. She wouldn't even have Sokka with her; Sokka would be dropped off on the Isle of Kyoshi, where he and Suki would be wed according to Kyoshi custom, and Aang and Toph were leaving on Appa right after the ceremony down here, to start looking for surviving Air Nomads. "Of course I'm going with you, Twinkle Toes," Toph had said cheerfully. "Someone's gotta keep those pretty feet of yours on the ground."

Now, Zuko shivered a bit, edging closer to her. He looked tense. "Is it always this cold down here?"

"It's worse in the winter," Katara told him. "For me, this is like, my favorite temperature, right here."

He glanced at her. "This isn't winter?"

"Summer, Zuko," she corrected him patiently. "It's summer here. The seasons are reversed below the equator, remember?" She glanced up at the cloudy, overcast sky. "If it were full winter, we wouldn't be getting any daylight at all. Very, very depressing. Of course, twenty-four-hour daylight can be wearing too—they don't call it Midnight Sun Madness for nothing—" She looked at his expression and trailed off. "Never mind."

Zuko said nothing, but turned his head away; the scarred side of his face was to her, and she could not read his expression. She had offered to heal him some time ago, but Zuko's reaction had been ambivalent. "I want you to," he had said, but his words had lacked conviction. By that time Katara had come to realize some of what his scar represented to him—leading her both to think that Zuko really needed to have it healed, and to realize that for him it was not a simple matter—and had offered to do it after their marriage as a wedding present to him. That, she had thought, would give him enough lead time to get used to the idea. Zuko had agreed, but had looked tense, and he had not brought the subject up since then.

"Don't worry, Prince Zuko," Iroh called, stepping out of the wheelhouse behind them. He also was dressed in full Fire Nation armor, with his hair back in the topknot as was his nephew's, but he looked as cheerful and relaxed as if he had just stepped out of the bathhouse. "I'm sure everything will be fine. Perhaps your father would like a sporting game of pai-sho?" he asked Katara, smiling. Katara couldn't repress a small giggle.

"Well, I don't think Dad plays pai-sho. But you can ask him."

"We're getting close—look, here come the coracles," Sokka called, pointing over the edge to the round hide boats making their way through the choppy gray sea. "Man, I hope they don't think we're coming to attack them…."

"I'm sure they know the war is over," Katara told him. "The warriors would have told them when they came back—I bet they're even expecting us."

Zuko shook his head. "I knew it was a mistake to come in the ship," he muttered. "We should have taken the cutter—"

" _Zuko._ " Katara tugged on his hand, getting him to look at her. "Everything's going to be fine," she told him, holding his gaze. "Okay?" After a moment, he gave a slight nod. "It's going to—"

" _Holy_ cow!" At Sokka's cry, both their heads immediately snapped up, going to the Water warrior. "Katara, _look!_ "

Katara dropped Zuko's hand and went running to the railing. Her jaw dropped as she stared over the side, as the ship drew closer to the shore. She turned to look at her brother incredulously. "What did they do to our village? Where's our village?" was all she could think to say in the first moment of surprise. "That's not a village, that's a—"

"Remember what I told Yue about the South Pole not being a cultural hub?" Sokka began, awed. "Well, it is now!"

As the ship drew up to the docks, escorted by Water Tribe coracles and junks, Katara and Sokka were speechless, simply staring at the sights that met their confused eyes. The tiny settlement that they had known as children—the loosely-packed snow wall surrounding a handful of hide tents and one igloo—was nowhere in evidence. Instead, sprawling out over the snow plain, was a densely settled area of ice houses, blue and white, with a two-story ice building at the center. A hard ice wall, high as a man's head, partially surrounded the settlement, higher to seaward and to windward, with men and even women stationed on top of the broad walkway every few intervals, sitting cross-legged or leaning on spears. The whole thing glistened in the long slanting rays of the afternoon sun, looking like a city of crystal. It was by no stretch of the imagination as grand a city as the Northern Water Tribe, but impressive none the less, particularly compared to what it had been.

"It certainly does look different," Iroh murmured, coming to stand beside Katara. Zuko came to the edge of the rail too, looking over the side; he said nothing.

"Whoa, there are actual _docks_ now!" Sokka cried, amazed. Fire Nation deckhands were tossing hawsers down to the men—and there were even some women—in the coracles alongside, as water swelled under the iron boat, bending it carefully toward the docks. "And look—my watchtower!" What had formerly been a misshapen mound of snow prone to falling over at the slightest gust of wind now stood solid and tall, an impressive edifice wrought of gleaming ice with windows spiraling up its sides and ornate detailing at its top. Silver and blue banners prominently hung from the windows displayed alternately the Water Emblem and the crescent moon and three waves that stood for the Water Tribe. "Ha!" Sokka crowed triumphantly. "Try and knock _that_ over!"

"Is that an actual _marketplace?_ " Katara wondered, shading her eyes with her hand and peering at the open square with many tent roofs in front of the two-story building. "Gran-Gran said we had one when I was young, but I don't remember ever seeing it…"

"Yeah, you probably wouldn't remember it," Sokka told her absently, watching the docks. "It closed when I was six and you were four. Dad took me down there once, but even then it was almost deserted. I was so mad because I wanted him to get me a shaved-ice cone—hey, look! Elk-yaks!" Sokka pointed as three riders mounted in formation on elk yaks came trotting down the docks.

"It's bigger than it was last time," Zuko murmured, so quietly Katara almost missed it. She turned to look up at him.

"It's the Northern Water Tribe," she told him. "They said they were going to send people down to help us rebuild. It looks like they did." She squeezed his hand again in a burst of affection. "I'm so happy," she said, unable to keep down a bright grin. "This is great. It looks just like Gran-Gran always used to tell us it was like when we were little. It's just like I saw it in my head."

Zuko glanced down at her and after a moment, gave a small smile. He started to say something, but his words were cut off by the hiss of steam and screech of metal as the ship's gangplank began to lower. Deckhands and dock workers were shouting to each other as the boat was busily secured to the docks, and the three riders down below drew up their mounts in formation just out of the reach of the descending iron walkway.

"Oh wow," Katara breathed, recognizing them.

"What is it?"

"It's Master Pakku, and Bato, and—" She turned to look up at Zuko, feeling her eyes suddenly water. "Dad," she whispered. "It's Dad."

Her words were immediately confirmed by Sokka's wild war whoop. " _Dad! DAAAAD! Look! Look, I've still got it!"_ He snatched his precious boomerang from his back and hurled it; the air whistled, and one of the figures on the dock rose up out of his saddle and caught it with a solid smack. An answering war whoop rose up to the ears of those on the ship; that cry sent chills down Katara's spine.

"That's Dad," she whispered again. "That's Dad's war cry! He used to do that at night when the polar wolves were howling outside and we were afraid—he said it would scare the wolves away, that no wolf in its right mind would want to tangle with a Water Tribe warrior. It always made me feel safe to hear that….I never thought I was going to hear it again."

Zuko said nothing, but she thought she saw his golden eyes glimmer as he looked down at her, and he swallowed a bit. He put one arm around her waist, simply holding her. She squeezed him tightly, leaning her head on his shoulder and feeling a powerful wave of sorrow sweep her; the Fire Lord had fallen to Aang in the Avatar state, and whatever unfinished business Zuko had had with his father would remain so for the rest of his life. And while Katara had been there, and had been glad to do her part, she couldn't help but feel for the young man she loved.

The next moment there was a splash as Sokka, unwilling to wait for the gangplank to be made fast, dove over the side. In two powerful strokes he had made it to the docks and was pulling himself out, dripping; he bounded up the docks to their father's elk yak, to be caught in Hakoda's strong arms as the older man swung down. The two males pounded each other on the back; Sokka, Katara saw, was nearly as tall as their father now, though not quite so broad of shoulder. After a moment, Hakoda pushed Sokka back, taking him by his upper arms, and said something to him; whatever he said was obliterated by the crash of the falling gangplank, but it made Sokka grin.

"He looks like a nice man," Iroh observed, coming up behind them, "and just the sort to enjoy a cup of tea." He gave Zuko what looked like an absent squeeze on the shoulder, and leaned on the railing, looking down at Katara's father. Zuko's eyes flickered in Iroh's direction and his hand tightened on Katara's, but he said nothing.

"Come on, Zuko," Katara told him, suddenly feeling nervous herself, and gestured to the now fully-unfolded gangplank. "Time to go meet Dad."

Katara stepped off the gangplank and onto the dock first, with Zuko right behind her and Iroh following. It was Master Pakku who came to greet her first, offering her a bow; Dad and Bato were deep in conversation with Sokka. Katara was actually feeling nervous herself and turned to Pakku in hopes of delaying. "And how's my favorite waterbending student?" Pakku asked, smiling.

"It's good to see you again, Sifu Pakku." She smiled back at him, and bowed in return.

"Oh, _Sifu,_ is it now? You've been spending time with earthbenders, haven't you?" He raised one eyebrow.

"Only one, sir. Aang's earthbending teacher."

"Well I hope that you and that earthbender have been having better luck with him than I had," Pakku pronounced. "For all his power, I have never met such an incorrigible student. I was unaware that airbenders were also air _heads_."

"Oh, sir, I think Toph managed to smack some sense into him," Katara told him. "Have you been teaching classes down here?"

"Yes, I have—boys _and_ girls," he added, with a slight smile. "At first I was somewhat unsure, even with your fine example, young Katara, but my wife insisted. She said it was a meaningless tradition, and _this_ time I listened to her." He raised an eyebrow.

"You and Gran-Gran—" At his nod, Katara forced a smile, but inside felt a bit queasy. _My waterbending master in the family?_ "Great!" she said a bit too loudly. "Did you know we also have kin in the Foggy Swamp?"

"Ohh yes. Some of them have come to visit us here." Pakku looked as faintly nauseous as Katara felt.

"They _are_ highly skilled benders," Katara told him.

"Perhaps," was all Pakku said. His eyes moved past her then to take in her companions. "General Iroh," he said coldly.

"Water Master Pakku," Iroh responded, slightly less coolly but still with more chill than Katara had ever heard from the old firebender. Her eyes went to Zuko's, and found him as confused as she was.

"Do you two know each other?" Zuko and she asked simultaneously.

Neither Iroh nor Pakku paid them any attention. Slowly the two bending masters advanced on each other, holding each other's gazes grimly. Katara gripped Zuko's hand, squeezing so hard she could feel the pulse in his fingertips. They advanced to about a foot of each other….

….then Pakku reached out and grabbed Iroh by the arm, his face breaking into a grin. "You crafty old smokeblower, you! I haven't seen you in—how long was it?"

"At least twenty or twenty-five years," Iroh said, grinning himself as he grabbed the taller waterbender's arm in return. "Since the international pai-sho tournament at Omashu. You gave me a very good fight there, I must admit."

"Not good enough." Pakku turned to Katara. "I was tenth-seeded in the Tournament of Omashu back when it was still being held yearly, until this canny firebreather here knocked me out in the fifth round. I've never seen such inspired playing."

"I was lucky," Iroh said modestly. He took Zuko by the arm and yanked him forward. Zuko looked startled, but stepped up bravely. "Master Pakku, this is young Zuko. He is my nephew, and my student. Zuko, this is Master Pakku—one of the most devious pai-sho masters I've ever faced across the board." His tone was light, but his gaze carried a bit of a hard edge to it, and Katara noted that he had said nothing about Zuko's status as future Fire Lord.

Zuko glanced at Katara, then offered a respectful bow. "It is an honor to meet you, Master Pakku," he said seriously. "I've heard a great deal about you from my betrothed. She says that you are hard, but fair, and that you taught her everything she knows."

Pakku also glanced at Katara, then back at Iroh. His blue eyes narrowed a bit as he turned toward Zuko; Katara knew that he had to know who the young firebender was. Zuko waited, pale but quiet. Pakku hesitated for a moment, but at last returned Zuko's bow.

"If you are Iroh's student and Katara's betrothed," he said, "then you are a friend of mine, young Zuko." He reached out and clasped him by the arm. "Although your fiancée perhaps overspoke herself," he added with a slight smile. "Your uncle can tell you that I am not one to engage in false modesty, but Katara was quite a skilled bender already by the time she came to me."

"You taught me more," Katara said with feeling. Her eyes went past Pakku to the knot of Sokka, Bato and her father Hakoda; as she did that, her father looked up from conversation with Sokka and met her gaze. Katara's heart leapt into her throat and she swallowed. "Can you excuse me, Master Pakku?"

Her master said something, but Katara didn't hear what it was; she approached her father, her heart pounding in her chest. She was very conscious of Zuko at her back; she hadn't heard him move, but she could feel him there. _He doesn't look any older,_ she thought. _He looks the same as he did the day he went away, when he picked me up and tossed me on his shoulder, and I was crying so hard because he wouldn't take me with him…._ Sokka had come and put his arms around her and told her not to worry, but she could tell that Sokka was scared too. _And now he's back from the war and I'm engaged to the Fire Lord…to the enemy._

Her father had always been a quiet man, and he said nothing, just watching as she approached. She halted, and looked up at him. "Dad…?" she faltered.

Hakoda held out his arms. "My little girl," he said simply.

" _Dad_!"

Katara ran the last few steps and leapt into his arms. For that moment, she had forgotten Zuko, forgotten Iroh, forgotten Pakku and Bato; there was only herself and her father and Sokka. He caught her lightly and lifted her, just as he had when she was a child, swinging her high into the air; Katara laughed, knowing she was safe because she was in her father's arms. After a moment, however, he set her down again. "Whew! You're too heavy for that now, Katara—you've grown into quite the young lady while I was gone." He was smiling, and his eyes were too bright. Katara could feel she had a silly grin herself. "Come here, both of you."

Sokka came, and the two of them stood side by side as Hakoda put a hand on each of their shoulders. "Look at the pair of you," he said quietly. "Sokka, you have truly grown into a brave warrior while I was away, just as I always knew you would, and Katara, even if only half of what I have heard of you is true, you have become quite an impressive young lady." He paused. "You look just like your mother," he told Katara gently. "I know she would be proud of you both. I know that I am."

Sokka was grinning too, and he put an arm around Katara's shoulder. "I protected her, Dad," he was saying. "I looked out for her. Just like you asked me to."

"And I took care of Sokka too," Katara put in. "Just like you said—"

"Wait a minute!" Sokka began, comically outraged. "Dad asked _you_ to look after _me?_ No _way!_ "

"That's _exactly_ what he did, right Dad?" Katara began, turning to Hakoda. "The last thing you said to me was, 'Sokka has no common sense, and he needs his sister to look after him!'"

" _What!"_

Hakoda was silent, smiling slightly. Katara turned toward him. "That's what you _said,_ right, Dad?"

"You did—He did _not!_ " Sokka insisted. "If anyone, _you're_ the one who needed to be looked after—Well, go on, Dad, tell her she's wrong!" he said, turning to Hakoda for support.

"Back me up, Dad! That's what you said, right?" Katara also appealed. "Tell him!"

Hakoda's face was twitching, and after a moment, the older Water Tribe man burst into laughter so vigorous that Katara and Sokka, glancing at each other, couldn't help but laugh too—a wonderful, joyful laughter that felt as if it were cleansing away the strain and uncertainty of the days before. _We all made it,_ Katara was thinking, as she laughed so hard tears came to her eyes. _We all made it. Me and Sokka and Dad and Gran Gran. We're all still here._ The three of them were embracing now, and Katara had missed how that had happened, but it felt like being home.

Hakoda calmed first, pushing them away slightly, though she could still see tears in his eyes. "Apparently _some_ things never change," he told them. "Would you believe that while I was away, I even missed the sound of you two arguing?"

"Really?" Sokka asked.

"Really," Hakoda said, nodding. "And now here the two of you are, all grown up. I'm sorry I missed it," he said sadly. "Sokka, I'm sorry I wasn't able to take you ice-dodging your first time. I should have been with you for that."

"That's okay," Sokka told him. "Bato took us," he added with a gesture toward the other Water Tribe man, who was standing back and watching.

"Yeah—me and Sokka both, and Aang too," Katara put in.

"They acquitted themselves in fine fashion," Bato put in now, "and all three of them earned their marks. You would have been proud, Hakoda," he told their father.

"Yes, so you told me. I still wish that I could have been there to see it. Ah, well—what's done is done," he said with a sigh. At those words, somehow the tenor of the gathering seemed to change; she saw her father's jaw set and his shoulders tighten a bit; he looked at her, and a tinge of a strange emotion came into his eyes. She knew exactly what he was thinking of, and suddenly her heart was in her throat again.

"Dad," she began, a bit tremulously, then had to stop and draw a breath. "There's someone I want you to meet." She glanced over her shoulder to where Zuko and Iroh still waited at the end of the docks.

Sokka's eyes narrowed slightly, but her father simply nodded, sighing again. "I guess you're not my little girl anymore, are you?" he murmured. At Katara's stricken look, he shook his head, and reached out, pulling her into an embrace. "But you are still my daughter," he assured her firmly. "Nothing will ever change that. Do you understand?"

Katara nodded, feeling a trembling, relieved smile spread its way across her lips. "Yes, Daddy," she told him. He smiled back, but she could see distant regret in his eyes. After a moment, however, he shook it off, and took her by the hand.

"Well. Let's go meet your young man."

Zuko waited at the end of the docks, feeling out of place and awkward. His uncle had fallen into a deep conversation with Master Pakku, so no one was paying him any attention; there was that at least. The sight of Katara's reunion with her father caused him to turn away, biting his lip. _She's come home. I never had one to begin with._ Perhaps it was not until seeing her, now, here, that he realized that. He wondered how she would feel about the Fire Capital after they had finished here—even he wasn't looking forward to it, and he had been born there. _What if she doesn't want to stay there?_ It was the first time the thought had come to him, and it gave him a chill. What would he do if Katara decided she wanted to live with her people? _Give up being the Fire Lord? Can I do that? Would it be allowed? Who else is there to be Fire Lord?_ Azula was dead— _no great loss there_ —and Uncle Iroh wasn't in the line of succession anymore; even if he had been, he was too old to be a viable alternative. His guts were churning. _Great. One more thing to worry about on top of everything else…._

She was coming toward him now, holding her father's hand; her eyes were shining and she was smiling hopefully. Zuko tried to smile back to reassure her, but his gaze went to her father. He seemed as tall and imposing as Zuko's own father had been, and the coolly distant look in his eyes, to Zuko's nervous mind, seemed very similar as well. _Katara's mother died in a Fire Nation raid,_ Zuko remembered. _The Fire Nation killed his wife. What if he's angry at me?_

She halted a few feet away. "Dad," she said, looking up at her father, "this is Zuko, my betrothed. Zuko, this is my father Hakoda of the Water Tribe."

Zuko swallowed and bowed quickly, very deep. "It is a very great honor to meet you, sir, and I'm—" _How do I finish it? "Thanks for letting me marry your daughter?" "Sorry the Fire Nation killed her mother?" "It wasn't my fault, it was my father's?"_ He drew a breath, struggling to get a grip on himself. "I hope I will make your daughter very happy," he said at last, relaxing a bit. It was the simple truth, after all.

Hakoda simply nodded, the distant look not abating. After a moment, Katara's father drew a breath. "I must say, I never expected in a hundred years that my future son in law would be the Fire Lord," he said with a sigh.

A heavy silence fell at those words. _He hates me,_ Zuko thought dully. _Right. Of course._ He glanced at Katara, but found no solace there; she was still looking at them both hopefully. He groped for something to say but his mind was completely blank; he came up with nothing.

It was Iroh who stepped in to save them, turning away from Master Pakku and earning Zuko's undying gratitude. "Life is full of the unexpected, isn't it?" he said cheerfully, coming up beside Zuko and putting an arm around his nephew's shoulder; somehow it made him feel a little better. "I certainly never expected to be here at the South Pole at my age—I had hoped I would be at home by my own fire warming my feet and boring my comrades with stories about my youthful adventures by now. All we can do is cope. I generally find that a glass of calming tea helps me." He came forward now, extending a hand to take Hakoda by the forearm, as he had done with Pakku. "I assume that you are the father of the lovely Katara?" he asked, indicating Katara, then continued, "You have done an excellent job. From what I have seen of her, she is a fine young lady, and a credit to her family and her people. You have every right to be proud of her."

Hakoda gave a slight nod, saying only, "Thank you;" but it did seem the distance in his eyes faded a little. Zuko gave heartfelt thanks.

"I am General Iroh," he continued. "Young Zuko here is my nephew. He has spoken correctly when he said it is an honor to meet you—it is an honor to me as well. I also never expected that he would choose a lady of the Water Tribe to be his wife, but when I saw the girl he chose, I was very proud of him. I knew he had chosen well. He gets that judgement from my side of the family," Iroh added in a stage whisper, smiling. The distance in Hakoda's eyes faded a bit more, Zuko saw. "It is cold out here for those of us not accustomed to this climate. Perhaps we could all take a cup of tea together—the happy couple, you and your friend Bato, Katara's brother, Master Pakku, and I."

Hakoda sighed again. "Perhaps we could," he said at last. "Come, we'll go to the Great Hall."

As the waterbenders led the way, with Zuko and Iroh bringing up the rear, Zuko whispered to his uncle, "Thank you."

"For what, nephew? I think that went very well."

"You do?"

"Oh yes. Any occasion that ends with the drinking of tea is a good occasion." Iroh smiled. Somehow, Zuko felt a little better.


	2. Chapter 2

 

They took a gondola, poled by a young Water Tribe man who looked rather impressed to see his passengers, through a canal that had most definitely not been there when Katara and Sokka had left.  Their boat was not the only craft plying the new waterway; Katara saw barges piled high with goods being drawn up and down the canal by teams of elk yaks.  They poled past new buildings being put up on all sides; waterbenders were raising masses of water into position, holding them in shape, and freezing them to form floors, sides, walls and roofs of new construction.

 

“Wow, it’s changed so much!” Sokka exclaimed, looking at all the growth around them. 

 

“I know, I can’t believe all this,” Katara said, trying to take it all in.

 

Bato smiled slightly.  “Yes.  Our Northern cousins have been most helpful, with material and also with people.  They sent down a hundred waterbenders to help us, and that was just to begin with.”

 

Master Pakku nodded with a trace of smugness. Katara saw Bato’s eyes flicker sideways, and she sensed a tension in the air.

 

“Many of their female waterbenders have come down here as well,” Bato continued.  “They find the South Pole slightly more congenial toward those who wish to be less constrained by tradition.  So their loss is our gain.”

 

Pakku shifted.  “Some traditions are worth keeping.  They are what make us _civilized_.”

 

Bato looked like he was going to respond, but Hakoda interposed firmly, “Don’t start this argument again, I ask you.  Katara and Sokka are back, and I am sure they do not want their trip home to be spoiled by bickering.”

 

“And it’s such a lovely day, after all,” Iroh added sunnily, from his position in the back of the gondola, drawing everyone’s eyes.  “The sun is more or less out, the sky is only mostly overcast, and it must be all of—what do you think the temperature is?”

 

“Twenty below,” Pakku said, his mouth quirking.

 

“That warm!  Can you believe it?  Why ruin such great weather by arguing?”

 

All three of the other adults chuckled, and the tension was gone; Katara glanced at Zuko.  “Your uncle’s really great,” she whispered. 

 

Zuko glanced sideways at her and nodded.  “Yeah.  He is,” he whispered back.

 

“Speaking of ‘civilized,’” Sokka put in, leaning over the side, “that couldn’t be—“

 

He was pointing toward two men who were passing in a boat carved out of wood, one man, large and heavy, reclining in the back while the other, tall and skinny, stood in the front and propelled the boat with odd waterbending arm motions.  They were paler than normal for the Southern and Northern tribes, and their black hair was long and lank, oily.  They had foregone their usual loincloths for the heavy fur robes worn by their arctic cousins, but they still wore the distinctly odd-looking leaf hats Katara had first seen them in.  When they caught sight of Katara and Sokka in the boat they started yelling and hollering.  _“Hey!  Howdy, kinfolks!  Can’t believe we’re meetin’ you here!  Quick, Due!  Pull up the boat longside!”_

 

“Stop the boat,” Hakoda ordered, gesturing to the pole man, and the gondola drew to a stop at the side of the waterway.

 

“I don’t _believe_ it!” Katara gasped in surprise.

 

“Who are they?” Zuko asked in an undertone, looking down at her.

 

“Due and Thoc,” she answered.  “We ran into them in Foggy Swamp—I told you about them, right?  It was the swamp where Aang first learned about Toph and where I learned to bend plants.”

 

“They don’t look so bad,” he said uncertainly, watching them approach. 

 

“They’re powerful benders, just….kind of strange.”  She glanced back up at the two swampfolk approaching; Sokka was leaning over the side, calling to them.

 

“Hey, Due and Thoc!  Long time no see!  What are you _doing_ down here?”

 

“What are we doin’ down here?” Thoc asked, straightening from his recumbent position.  “Does kin need a reason to pay kin a visit?”  He grinned.  “We heard all about how y’all here down south got wasted in the war, so a bunch of us thought we’d all come on down and see if we could lend y’all a hand.  Hue sent us,” he added.  “There are more of us on the way.”

 

“Wow, it’s great to see you guys! You got any more of that possum chicken?”

 

“Naw,” Due drawled in reply.  “They don’t have no possum chicken down here, just this arctic hen.”

 

“Basically the same thing,” Sokka said happily. 

 

“Master Pakku,” Thoc said, offering a seated bow from his boat to that of the waterbending master.  “Hue told us ya might be down here—he said to say howdy to ya.  And to y’all, Katara and Sokka.”

 

Pakku looked somewhat put out.  “Thank you.  Say ‘howdy’ to him too for me,” he added, looking faintly queasy. 

 

“ _You_ know Hue?” Katara asked incredulously.

 

“I’ve never met him, but I’ve heard of him,” Pakku explained.  “At the North Pole, he is known as the ‘Enlightened One.’”

 

“Hue of Foggy Swamp?” Iroh asked, straightening up.  “Yes, I have heard of him too.  I think there are very few bending masters who have not heard of him.  He has an excellent singing voice,” Iroh added, smiling.

 

“You’ve actually met him, you old flamethrower?” Pakku glanced back at Iroh, who nodded, smiling slightly.  “You’ll have to tell me about that one of these days.”

 

“Hue says,” Due put in from the boat bobbing alongside, “that you an’ Sokka an’ the little Avatar can come on back to see him whenever ya feel like—course, kinfolk’s always welcome, far as me an’ Thoc are concerned,” he added, smiling.  “You too, Master Pakku.”

 

“Thank you.  That’s nice to know,” Pakku said, still looking queasy. 

 

“Now, Katara,” Thoc said now, rising up from the back of the boat, “what’s this Hue’s been tellin’ us about your gettin hitched?” He fixed her with an eye.

 

“ _Hitched?_   Sounds painful,” Zuko whispered into her ear, and Katara had to bite back a grin.

 

“That’s right,” she said, offering a smile back.  “This is Zuko, my betrothed,” she continued, gesturing to Zuko where he knelt by her side in the boat.  “Zuko, this is Due and Thoc.”

 

“Congratulations!” Thoc cried and lunged out of his dugout canoe to clasp Katara in a huge bear hug; the gondola rocked dangerously until Pakku steadied it with a few waterbending motions.  He released Katara, who was left slightly breathless, and turned to grab a very surprised Zuko; Katara saw him stiffen reflexively against the embrace.  “You’s family now, you know?  Any kin of Katara’s is kin of ours!”  He pounded Zuko on the back, so that the firebender struggled for release, choking a bit.

 

“Thank you,” he managed, when he had extricated himself from Thoc’s grip.  “I…uh…appreciate that.”  Iroh was chuckling in the background.

 

“We’ve got some stuff fer your weddin’, little Katara,” Due added, grinning; he gestured at the crates in the boat.  “Some good ol’ swamp cookin’—Hue sent it all the way from Foggy Swamp.  You’re gonna have an excellent weddin’ feast!”

 

“Well, that’s great, Due, I… really appreciate it.”  She whispered to Zuko, “I just hope they didn’t bring any bugs.”  He turned to look at her in alarm.

 

 _“Bugs?_ ”

 

“On second thought, don’t ask.”  She kissed him lightly under the ear.

 

“But where’s the little Avatar an’ that flying bison and that lemoo of his?  He with you?” Thoc frowned, looking at the boat.  “I was thinkin’, Katara, when I first heard you was gonna tie the knot, that it would be him….”

 

“No,” she said graciously.  “Aang is involved with an earthbender, actually.”

 

“Well, that’s great.”  Due and Thoc smiled, and Katara smiled back.  “We’ve got to get movin’ along now, but it’s always nice to see kin again!  Come on by—the door’s always open!”  Due stood up and began to bend again; the dugout canoe quickly drew away from the gondola, moving further down along the canal.

 

“Good people,” Iroh commented contentedly from his seat.

 

“Where _is_ Aang, anyway?” Bato asked as the gondola started again.  “I thought he would still be with you.”

 

“Yes, I had hoped I would have a chance to meet the Avatar,” Hakoda told Katara and Sokka.

 

“He’s in the Earth Kingdom with his earthbending sifu—her name is Toph,” Sokka explained.  “They’re visiting Toph’s parents, trying to clear up a few things.  But they should be down here in a day or two.”  He paused.  “Dad, when they come, they will be bringing someone else that… _I_ would like you to meet.”

 

Hakoda raised one eyebrow, smiling slightly.  “Ohh?”

 

Katara grinned at Sokka’s discomfiture, taking Zuko’s hand again, as Sokka shifted.  “Yeah.  Her name is Suki.  She’s from the Isle of Kyoshi—“

 

“A _warrior woman,_ ” Hakoda said, raising his eyebrows even further; Katara could see the twinkle in his eyes that indicated he was teasing. 

 

“You know—?”

 

“The warrior women of Kyoshi are famous for their prowess in battle,” Bato put in.  “Many times they fought beside us in the war.  They saved our lives more than once.”

 

“Yeah!  She’s the most amazing—“ Sokka began excitedly.  “I mean, if you’d ever seen her—She’s incredible, the way she—“

 

“I don’t know, Sokka,” Hakoda said, shaking his head regretfully, but the mirthful twinkle in his eye was strong as ever.  “A woman warrior would be a serious breach of Water Tribe custom and tradition….”

 

“Not that anyone in the Southern Water Tribe ever goes against tradition,” Master Pakku murmured, smiling slightly.

 

“Why don’t women in the Water Tribe learn to fight?”

 

Zuko’s question silenced the discussion as all eyes turned his way; Katara saw her betrothed flush in embarrassment.  “I—I mean, in the Fire Nation, it’s—“  He stumbled to a halt, perhaps realizing that bringing up the Fire Nation might not be the best thing to do in this party of veterans, perhaps just discomfited to be the center of attention.  Katara took his arm, as Iroh again stepped in.

 

“I have to say, I have often wondered the same thing.  Looking at young Katara here, it has occurred to me on more than one occasion that to face an army of women such as her would be enough to chill even the bravest heart,” he added with a wink at his soon-to-be niece-in-law.

 

“Well, there’s your answer,” Bato said after a tiny silence.  “Water Tribe women are fierce enough already—if they were trained in weapons and combat, we’d _all_ be in trouble!”

 

Everyone laughed, and the odd pocket of tension was broken, although Katara saw the distance did not leave Bato’s or her father’s eyes.  “Don’t I know it,” Pakku muttered wryly.  “You are a very brave man, young Zuko,” he added, glancing at the firebender with a bit of humor.  “Although I’m not sure you know entirely what you are getting into.  Sometime you should ask your intended to tell you about the waterbending duel she challenged me to.  It might shed some light on your fiancée’s temperament…just like her grandmother’s.”

 

“ _You_ won that duel,” Katara reminded him.

 

“Not by much,” Pakku replied, beaming at his favorite student.

 

“I think I already know, sir,” Zuko replied, looking somewhat surprised at his own daring.

 

There was a bit more polite laughter as the gondola slid through the icy waters, then nudged itself to a halt against the side of the canal.  “Here we are,” Hakoda announced, standing.  “The Great Hall,” he said, indicating the two-story ice building behind him.  “It will be warmer inside.  Shall we go in?”

 

[*]

 

Zuko had never been inside a Water Tribe building before, and under other circumstances, he would have taken the time to thoroughly examine his surroundings; as it was, though, he was too apprehensive to give them more than a cursory examination.  The large semicircular room inside took up the entire front half of the lower round building; the floor was ice, but roughened with grit to make it stable for walking, with ice columns arranged around the outer edge of the building.  Special blocks of crystal clear ice spaced near the ceiling admitted light from the outside to wash the interior, and an ice dais covered with animal pelts was against the far wall.  Zuko was distantly surprised at how warm it was inside, and with relief, allowed his internal temperature to subside; it wasn’t until he released the energy, staggered, and was swamped with a tremendous wave of fatigue that he realized how much effort it had been taking to keep himself warm against the bitter cold.

 

“Snow insulates,” Katara murmured, squeezing his hand—then dropped it, as an aged woman who had been sitting on the dais rose to come toward her and her brother.  “ _Gran-Gran?”_   Katara gasped.

 

“Did you think I was going to drag these old bones of mine all the way down to the dock in this weather?” the old woman—Katara’s grandmother—asked, smiling to take the sting off her words.  “I knew your father would bring you here—and _you,_ ” she said, turning to Master Pakku scoldingly.  “Did you not think to send a message telling me they had arrived?  All that talk about the Northern Water Tribe being so civilized—where were you raised, a penguin roost?”

 

“They’re here now, aren’t they, old woman?” Pakku raised an eyebrow.  “Why bother to send a runner when we’d’ve probably beaten him here anyway?”

 

“You could have sent a message through _waterbending,_ you splash-brained fool,” Katara’s grandmother replied.  “Surely that should have occurred to the greatest waterbender of the Northern Water Tribe—a simple nudge with ice or a ripple in the pond, and I would have known they were on their way.  Some Water Master you are.”

 

“Grouse, grouse, grouse, Kanna, that’s all you do,” Pakku replied, but he gave her an embrace, and the two of them shared a quick look of such deep affection that Zuko realized all their words were just for show.

 

Kanna gave a hug to both Sokka and Katara, along with a few quiet words—“You did it.  You brought back hope, not just to us, but to our tribe,” which brought tears to Katara’s eyes and a look of quiet pride to Sokka’s face.  Then she turned toward Zuko. 

 

“So you are her young man.”  She peered at him.  “I remember you.  Your ship crashed its way into our village,” she said sternly.  “You scared the children and broke our houses, and handled me very roughly.  You showed a great deal of disrespect to one who is your elder.”

 

“Gran-Gran,” Katara began, going to Zuko’s side; Zuko took a step back, feeling himself flush with shame.

 

“I’m—I’m sorry,” he fumbled, trying to find something he could say.  _I didn’t mean it?_   That wouldn’t work; at the time he _had_ meant it.  _I wish I hadn’t done it?_   Well, he did, but that wouldn’t help.  Katara’s hand, steady on his arm, made him feel a little better.  “I hope…I hope I didn’t hurt you,” he came up with lamely.

 

“I thought you were a very rude and arrogant boy,” the old woman told him.  “I still do.”  As Zuko swallowed over a sinking sensation in his chest, Katara squeezed his arm hard.  Iroh started to say something, but Kanna said grudgingly, “However, perhaps you have not grown into a rude and arrogant young man.  I do not think my Katara would bring home anyone who was.  Come sit on the dais with us, and we—“ she gestured to the assembled party “—will discuss this marriage of yours.”

 

Zuko looked over the assembled party—Hakoda, Bato, Pakku, Kanna, Sokka, and Iroh.  “ _All_ of us?” He glanced down at Katara, who shrugged with a confused expression.

 

“There are many complicated matters to arrange,” Hakoda said.  “It is best that we all do it together.”

 

[*]

 

They took tea first, seated cross-legged on the lush furs underneath them; Zuko recognized none of the pelts, and wondered if they were all South Pole animals.  _Of course they are, what else would they be?_   The elders conversed, as did Katara and Sokka, while Zuko stayed silent as much as possible; he felt acutely out of place even with Iroh seated by his side, and Katara throwing him warm looks.  The conversation was determinedly light; it circled around the seal hunts, the weather, the reconstruction taking place around them.  Hakoda mentioned there that he was now chief of the Southern Water Tribe—“What happened to Dumaq?” Sokka asked.

 

“He didn’t survive the war,” Bato said shortly, his eyes narrowing a bit.  Iroh looked appropriately grave, while Zuko shifted uncomfortably, sensing the veiled hostility behind that gaze.

 

“He caught a fever in the Earth Kingdom,” Hakoda explained more gently.  “The tropical jungles didn’t agree with him.  Since he left no heirs, after our return the Tribal Council elected me the new chief, and chose Bato as my second.”

 

“Dad, I’m so proud of you!” Katara exclaimed.

 

“Wow, congratulations,” Sokka said.  “Mom would be proud of you too, I know it.”

 

“Thank you, Katara, Sokka,” Hakoda said, smiling.

 

The conversation turned to whether the Four Nation games would be resumed now that the war was over.  “I think I know who the Earth Kingdom would nominate as their champion,” Sokka said.  “Did you know Aang’s earthbending teacher is the Blind Bandit?”  That garnered exclamations of surprise all around, and led to tales from Katara and Sokka of some of Aang’s more amusing exploits, most of which Zuko had not heard.

 

“So you’re telling me,” he asked once, so incredulous that he forgot his discomfort, “that all that time I thought Aang was trying to throw me off, he was just—“

 

“Wandering around lost,” Katara said, nodding to the combined laughter of the entire group.  “Either that or looking for animals to ride.  Hey, that was the entire reason we went to Kyoshi Island in the first place.”

 

“I thought it was to visit the Temple of Kyoshi,” Zuko exclaimed, baffled.  “That was the only reason I could come up with for why he would go there—“

 

“Nope,” Sokka said, grinning.  “Aang had to go there because he just _had_ to ride the elephant koi.  He didn’t even know that Avatar Kyoshi had been from there until we were captured by the Kyoshi warriors.”

 

“And then he tried to ride the unagi and almost drowned,” Katara said in exasperation, rolling her eyes.  “After I _told_ him not to—That little escapade took about five years off my life, I’ll tell you….” She trailed off.

 

“This actually explains a great deal about the Avatar,” Pakku said, smiling wryly.  “It’s a good thing I didn’t know this beforehand—I doubt I’d even have bothered to _try_ training him.”

 

Katara said nothing; she sighed and dropped her eyes to the thick furs underneath them.  Sokka was looking pensive; Zuko swallowed, guessing what they were both thinking.  _And then I showed up and my men burned the entire village._    Katara looked up at him and seemed to guess his thoughts; she offered him a loving smile that made him feel a little better.

 

With that, the informal tone seemed to vanish from the gathering.  Hakoda put his teacup down and faced Zuko and Iroh.  “So, Fire Lord Zuko,” he said quietly.  The use of his title fell between them like a steel wall.  “You wish to wed my daughter.”

 

[*]

 

The statement hung there.  Abruptly, Zuko became aware of the spacing of the people on the dais.  The Water Tribe members were seated close to the wall, drawn up in a deliberate line almost like a council of judgement; Hakoda and Kanna were in the middle, with Bato to the left of Hakoda and Master Pakku to the right of Kanna.  Sokka was at the end of the line next to Bato.  _Hakoda,_ he thought, looking down the line uneasily. _Chief of the Southern Water Tribe and head of all its warriors as well as Katara’s father; Bato, Hakoda’s second in command; Kanna, Katara’s grandmother, who from what she told me as Katara’s oldest female relative must give her consent to any match of her bloodline; Master Pakku, the most powerful waterbender of both water tribes and Katara’s own master; and Sokka, Katara’s brother and the oldest male relative of her generation._ Since Katara had been positioned to one side, facing off against this formidable array it was just him and Iroh.  _Me, the as-yet-unconfirmed Fire Lord of an enemy nation who up until a month ago was a banished exile, and Iroh, the former Dragon of the West who retired in disgrace after losing his nerve at Ba Sing Se.  Great._   Zuko’s mouth was suddenly as dry as an Earth Kingdom desert. 

 

“I do, sir,” he managed to say.  His voice did not noticeably tremble, and for that he was distantly grateful.

 

Hakoda folded his hands before him.  That distant resignation was in his eyes.  “You are not of the Water Tribe, yet you wish to take a Water Tribe wife.  This in itself is a difficult thing, for our people have many customs surrounding marriage with which you are unacquainted and which you may not be in a position to readily fulfill.”

 

“Dad—“ Katara began.

 

“Katara—be silent.”  He also held up a hand interrupting Zuko as he started to speak.  “Simply listen, both of you.”

 

“Listen, Zuko,” Iroh murmured.  He was sitting forward, and Zuko could see that he was paying close attention.

 

“On its own, perhaps these difficulties could be overcome.  The customs could be set aside…ignored, perhaps, or done without.  However, in your case, this is not possible.  For you are not just any man who is not of our nation….and Katara is not just any Water Tribe woman.”

 

“How do you mean?” Zuko and Katara asked together, glancing at each other.

 

“You are the _Fire Lord,_ boy,” Kanna said now, irritably.  “You are of an enemy nation that has caused our people untold misery and suffering—and not just any man of that nation, but you are its _ruler._   The war is over for _now_ …but there are those among us, both South and North, that still bear much hatred for your people in their hearts, and will look for any excuse, however slight, to start it up again.  What better excuse than that the arrogant leader of our enemy nation has offered us serious insult and disrespected our ancient traditions?  It might not take much more than that to bring on an outpouring of wrath—and who among our leaders would be able to withstand such a raging flood?”  She raised an eyebrow.  “Especially if that insult was offered in the midst of negotiations for Katara.”

 

“For me?”  Katara spoke now, looking baffled.  “You mean….because I’m the daughter of the chief?”  She looked at her father.  “But, Dad….”  She trailed off, seeing something in her father’s expression.

 

“Katara,” Hakoda said quietly, “do you not know how you are spoken of among our people?  You and Sokka both?”

 

“Sokka—“  She turned to stare at her brother, who looked as baffled as she did; he held up his hands, shaking his head.

 

“The two of you have been away a long time, and just arrived back today,” Bato said, looking first at Katara, then at Sokka.  “So perhaps you have not had a chance to hear what is said of you.  Yes, you are the daughter of a chief, Katara, but there is more.  To our people, both South and North….the two of you are national heroes.”

 

 _“Heroes!”_   Katara and Sokka exclaimed simultaneously; Sokka looked like he had been poleaxed, Zuko observed, while Katara seemed faintly queasy. 

 

“Heroes,” Hakoda said, nodding.  “Katara the Mighty and Sokka the Brave are known across the length and breadth of the Southern and Northern Water Tribes for their famous deeds.  Think of it:  You are boon companions of the Avatar himself.   Together the two of you managed to single-handedly reunite us not only with our Northern cousins, but with our lost kin in Foggy Swamp.  With the Avatar, the two of you managed to overthrow Fire Lord Ozai and bring an end to the war, saving our people from what could well have been their destruction. Katara, the tales of your untrained duel with Master Pakku are widely known, as are the stories of your many battles, and it is said that you are the greatest waterbender of your generation—“




 

“I may have had something to do with that,” Pakku murmured, smiling slightly.

 

“—while Sokka, our people say that you are a warrior so bold as to win the heart of the Moon Goddess herself.”

 

 _The Moon Goddess?  What…?_   Out of the corner of his eye Zuko could see Iroh nodding to himself.  Sokka looked no less baffled than Zuko felt, but then said something Zuko didn’t understand.

 

“Princess Yue?  But that’s not—“

 

 _Who’s Princess Yue?_ He shot a glance at Katara, but she was pensive and didn’t see.

 

“That is what they say, Sokka,” Hakoda continued gently.  “That you are Sokka, Beloved of the Moon, one of the ruling spirits of our tribe.”  He paused, looking at both of them.  “People seek heroes, Katara, Sokka,” he said quietly.  “Especially when times are difficult or uncertain.”

 

“The war may be over,” Master Pakku said, jumping in, “but the road ahead is not an easy one.  Despite what you may see around you, rebuilding will be long and difficult; reconciliation even more so.  In times such as these, symbols are necessary.  The wedding of Katara the Mighty to the Fire Lord could be one such symbol, and a very powerful one….but in order for it to be so,” he continued, eyeing Zuko and Iroh closely, “our people must seem to come out of it as equals or even ahead, at least from our side.  If it looks to our people as if the Fire Nation offered disrespect to our great hero….”  He trailed off.

 

“I see,” Katara murmured, crestfallen.  “I didn’t think of that.”

 

Zuko drew a breath, thinking of Katara’s blue eyes, her bright smile.  “Tell me what I have to do,” he said, setting his jaw, “and I’ll do it.  Sir.  I’ll do anything you say. I don’t want to offer any disrespect to your people.”

 

“It’s not that simple,” Hakoda replied, shaking his head.

 

“It would be better,” Kanna put in, “if your father or mother were here.  In the Southern Water Tribe, marriage negotiations are a matter for the family elders to decide.”

 

“I will stand for young Zuko,” Iroh said at once, reaching out to put a hand on Zuko’s shoulder.  “I am his uncle and his teacher, and I am definitely his elder,” he added with a small smile.  “I also know something of your customs, as Master Pakku can tell you, though I may be a little rusty.”

 

“Excellent.  That may make it a little easier,” Hakoda said, nodding.  Again, Zuko thought:  _Thank Agni for Uncle Iroh._

 

“Then let us begin.”

 


	3. Chapter 3

The first issue to be settled, before anything else could be dealt with, was the issue of Zuko's nationality. "Those of us in the Water Tribe do not often marry outside it," Hakoda told them. "In fact, opinions differ on whether it is even permissible for an outsider to marry one of our own—Sokka," he added, turning toward his son, "keep this in mind for when you wed your Earth Kingdom bride."

The easiest way, Kanna explained, would be for Zuko to be adopted into the Water Tribe. "If we can find a family willing to adopt the Fire Lord, that is," she continued, eying him. "Perhaps a family who has lost a son of about your age in the war—they might accept you as restitution, in accordance with the ancient Water Tribe custom."

At this, however, Zuko dared to draw the line. "No," he told them as firmly as he could manage. "I'm sorry, but I can't do that. I can't pretend to be something I'm not. I'm Fire Nation, not Water Tribe, and I will not pretend."

"I think my nephew is correct," Iroh rallied to Zuko's side. "To my knowledge, only captive enemy warriors are adopted in this fashion, or warriors that have been rendered to the other side in tribute. My nephew is not a captive—" Zuko half-flinched at that, wondering for a flash if Bato or Kanna or someone would say, _He's not a captive **yet** ,_ but of course that didn't happen "—so this form of adoption cannot really be appropriate. For him to claim Water Tribe membership while still remaining as the leader of a nation that has been engaged in active hostilities with that tribe, might be seen as an arrogant enemy claiming a status to which he is not entitled. Furthermore, as I understand it—and by all means, correct me if I am wrong—according to the tradition of adoption, the adoptee takes on all of the duties and responsibilities toward his new family that the original family member would have had. Zuko of course will not be in a position to fulfill these responsibilities, so he will not be able to truly honor the custom. If anything," he added, raising an eyebrow, "it seems to me that attempting to adopt Zuko into the Water Tribe might lead to exactly the sort of cultural incident that we are hoping to avoid."

Kanna looked testy, but after a glance at Iroh, Master Pakku spoke up. "I think Iroh is right," he said. "In addition, the symbolic power of this union as a wedding of Water Tribe and Fire Nation would be diluted if Zuko were to be adopted into the Water Tribe. It is best if Zuko remains as he is."

"Perhaps you are right," Hakoda conceded after a moment's thought.

"Oh, very well," Kanna agreed, grousing, but she squeezed her husband's hand.

"However," Hakoda continued, "there are two further customs that have to be decided." He paused, his face set and stern; the expression reminded Zuko of his own father, and made him swallow. "First: in order to marry within the Water Tribe, by custom as ancient as our people, the man must demonstrate that he has the ability to provide for his new wife and any children they might have."

Zuko frowned. "Of course I have the ability," he began, confused. "I'm going to be—"

"Zuko, be quiet," Iroh told him sternly. "Can you please spell out exactly what that means, Chief Hakoda?"

"Of course." He paused. "You may have noticed," he told the old firebender, "that our land is a harsh one. Survival is never a guarantee; it is something that must be wrested from the environment by strength and skill and cunning. Within the Water Tribe, the purpose of marriage is to ensure the continuity of our people through the raising of children, and thus the survival of us all, for it is the young who will care for the old, and engender more young to continue the tribe when they grow old in their turn. Generally speaking, a couple who cannot demonstrate that they have the skills to provide for children will not be permitted to wed." Hakoda gave Zuko a long, measuring glance. "What I am trying to say," he continued, "is that in order to wed Katara according to Water Tribe custom, Zuko must demonstrate proficiency in the skills required of a Water Tribe man, and Katara must demonstrate proficiency in the skills required of a Water Tribe woman."

"In Katara's case, this is already done," Kanna said now. "Like all Water Tribe girls, Katara began work on her wivesgifts when she was still a child." Katara made a face that Zuko would have found charming under other circumstances. "Ordinarily, she would present these gifts to her mother-in-law before the marriage; however, since your mother is no longer living, I suppose she will have to present them to you, General Iroh."

"I hope you can find a use for a leaky hide coracle, the skins and frame for an umiak, a pile of shedding furs, a warped hide shelter, a rickety drying rack, and a stash of moldy seal jerky," Katara said with a grimace.

"You never were any good at that stuff, Katara," Sokka put in, grinning.

"Hey, I had to demonstrate _proficiency_. Nobody ever said I had to be _good_ at it. How's that kayak coming, by the way, Sokka?"

"Well, if you would ever have gotten around to sewing the skins for it—"

"I was worse, Katara," Kanna reassured her.

"She was," Pakku said feelingly.

"What about for Zuko? What would be required were he to follow this custom?" Iroh interrupted, bringing the discussion back to its starting point. Zuko waited anxiously.

"In the case of a man of the Water Tribe," Hakoda continued, "it is generally accepted that he has demonstrated proficiency once he has been on one of the seasonal whale hunts."

Quickly, Zuko and Iroh exchanged glances; Zuko looked at Katara, who was frowning. "Seasonal whale hunts?" Iroh asked.

"Yes," Bato continued. "Now that the war is over and the warriors have returned home, we can hold the hunts again. Your father has been delaying the start of the first hunt specifically for this marriage, to give Zuko a chance," he added with a small smile at Katara. "It is considered especially lucky if a man's first hunt ever is also the first hunt of the season."

"Sokka," Hakoda added, looking at his son, "you have never been on one of the hunts, and you will need to complete one soon if you wish to wed your Earth Kingdom girl. You may accompany the warriors on this hunt."

" _Yeah!"_ Sokka's roar of approval rang off the ice walls as, oblivious to the circumstances, he pumped one fist in the air. Zuko couldn't share his enthusiasm; he turned an uneasy glance first to Katara, then to Iroh. Iroh straightened.

"As you know," he began, "young Zuko was not raised by the Water Tribe. He does not have the skills that Water Tribe hunters have learned since childhood. If he were to join, are you sure that he could successfully complete a whale hunt?"

 _Thanks, Uncle,_ Zuko thought. _Make sure everyone knows that I'm incompetent._ He knew that it was a real consideration—he knew very little about the Water Tribe whaling hunts, but even he knew enough to know that they could be dangerous—and he was grateful, but at the same time, the question needled him a bit.

"It would help matters a great deal if he were to at least attempt it," Hakoda said. "It would not be required that he kill the whale himself; he need only participate. As a member of the hunt, he would be entitled to a husband's portion of the whale meat and blubber, which he would then present to his betrothed's oldest female relative as a demonstration of his ability to provide for the daughter of her line and their children. That would be sufficient." He eyed Zuko again. "Most of the rest of the whaling party will be seasoned hunters that have been on many hunts previously. And Sokka can help to look after him, should he join the warriors," he added, glancing at his son.

That wiped the smile off Sokka's face right away, Zuko saw with dismal satisfaction; as for himself, Zuko felt his enthusiasm plummet to new lows. If there was anything that could make the prospect less enjoyable, it was having Katara's brother, who was a year younger than he was, hanging over his shoulder to make sure his boots were laced up and his spear pointed the right direction.

He looked over at Katara, and he could see she saw his unhappiness; she looked worried. "Dad," she began, straightening up. "I don't care if he does this or not—Zuko can't—"

"Katara, be silent," Kanna told her firmly. "This is a matter for the tribal elders to decide."

 _Zuko can't._ He'd heard it from everyone else his whole life, why not from Katara too? His shoulders tightened, and before he knew what he was saying, he spoke up. "If that's what is required by your customs, then I'll do it. I don't want to offer any disrespect to your people, or to Katara."

"Very good," Hakoda said, nodding. "Then you and Sokka will leave tomorrow with the hunters at first light."

 _Great,_ Zuko thought again, swallowing. When was he going to learn to keep his mouth shut? _What have I gotten myself into?_ He felt Iroh's sympathetic hand on his shoulder, but it didn't help much; suddenly it seemed as if he were very much alone.

He wanted to be done then, but Katara's father continued. "Now that that matter is settled, we have one more thing to discuss, if anything, a matter of even greater importance than the previous one." He paused, and Zuko was jolted to see that the formidable Water Tribe warrior looked almost uncomfortable. "This is a very serious matter among our people, and it involves a custom I am not sure the Fire Nation shares—"

"Stop dancing around the subject, Hakoda, and spit it out," Kanna told him acerbically. She turned to the two firebenders. "He's talking about Katara's bridewealth."

Katara's face fell, and Zuko saw that Iroh looked grave. "Bridewealth?" he asked. "I don't understand—"

"It is a Water Tribe custom, nephew," Iroh explained. "In the Water Tribe, when a couple marries, the man or the man's family will present lavish gifts to the family of the woman. It is done to compensate them for the loss of her labor in helping to run the household, since the woman will either be moving in with the man's family or else establishing a new household with him. Often, the woman's family will give some portion of these gifts back to the woman, which she will then keep in much the same fashion as women keep their dowry in the Fire Nation." He turned to the Water Tribe elders. "Have I described the custom correctly?"

"Almost," Pakku said. "Unfortunately, you old firebreather, you left out the most important part: The amount and quality of the gifts varies depending on a number of criteria including the status of the couple and their lineages, the overall wealth of the man's family and their ability to contribute gifts, the degree to which either half of the couple is valued by their respective families, and a host of other factors."

"And that's the problem," Kanna said now, sighing. "Bridewealth indicates the status and relationship of the husband and wife and their families, as well as the level of respect the husband and his family have for the wife and her family. A woman for whom high bridewealth is given is considered to be a woman of high esteem—it demonstrates that she is highly valued both by her husband and by her family, particularly if her husband's family makes sacrifices to offer her wealth. Likewise, a man who gives high bridewealth for his wife is also considered to be a man of great respect—it demonstrates that he is a man of great resources and gives him and his family line a great deal of status. High bridewealth is an effective way of linking two families together, and has the further benefit of boosting the status of any children that might come of the marriage as well.

"Conversely," she continued, raising an eyebrow, "low bridewealth, or even bridewealth gifts that are considered to be less than appropriate, are a sign of great disrespect. Throughout Water Tribe history, dissatisfaction over bridewealth has led to much bad feeling and even feuding—it is safe to say that no other issue in Water Tribe culture has led to more blood being spilled. So you can see, young Zuko and young Katara," she added, looking over at her granddaughter, "how much more delicate the issue becomes when the husband is a man of the Fire Nation "

Zuko frowned uncertainly. He looked over at Katara, whose face was shadowed. "I wondered if this were going to be a problem," she murmured.

"But I don't understand," he put in, baffled. " _Why_ is it a problem?"

"Zuko," Iroh began carefully.

"It is a problem, young Zuko," Bato said, his eyes narrowing, "for several reasons. First of all, Katara's status in our tribe is….quite high. Not only is she now the daughter of a chief, but in addition to that, she is an extremely powerful waterbender, and an accomplished healer. Together, these two factors would make the level of bridewealth appropriate for her extremely high simply by themselves. However, on top of that…."

"On top of that, boy," Kanna put in, "she's Katara the Mighty. Hero of our nation, boon companion of the Avatar himself, ender of the war, reuniter of the two tribes, sister to Sokka, Beloved of the Moon, and so on. And, last but certainly not least," Kanna added with a glance at Hakoda, "she is _very_ highly valued by her family."

"Taken all together," Hakoda said now, "this sets Katara's bridewealth at astronomical levels—levels so high that it is, frankly, unlikely that any one man in the Water Tribe, south or north, could meet them, except for perhaps Chief Arnook of the Northern Water Tribe." He glanced at Master Pakku, who nodded. "And then, on top of _that,_ there is the fact that you are not of our people. You are Fire Nation. In effect, by marrying Katara, you are taking her and her future children out of our tribe completely; therefore, in a sense, the entire tribe becomes her family and compensation for their loss must be commensurate." Katara bit her lip, looking serious; Hakoda held up his hands. "When that factor is taken into account, the appropriate level of bridewealth for this union is so high as to be effectively meaningless—you simply cannot meet it. If you were of our tribe, and Katara wished to marry you—or even if you were of the Fire Nation but not the Fire Lord—it could be arranged for you to 'steal' or 'kidnap' her, to get around this problem, but in this case…."

He trailed off. Zuko was frowning, trying to understand. "But that shouldn't be a problem," he said. "I'm the Fire Lord, I can pay as much as I have to for Katara—"

The moment the words left his lips, he heard how bad they sounded, and knew he had said exactly the wrong thing. The collective indrawn breath of the Water Tribe members confirmed it. Zuko felt himself flush painfully in mortification, wishing that the floor would just open up and swallow him whole. _Shut your mouth, Zuko, when are you going to learn to **shut your mouth!**_ Iroh had closed his eyes and was shaking his head wearily. Sokka was breathing hard and looked like he was a hairsbreadth from throwing his boomerang at him. Bato's fists were clenched, and Hakoda's jaw was tight; the chill in his eyes had deepened to arctic temperatures. _Way to go, Zuko. If he didn't hate you before, he certainly does now._ Pakku was looking, not at him, but at Iroh, with sardonic disbelief, and Kanna's lips had thinned to a flat line. His heart sank, but it was Katara's reaction that was the worst: she looked…. _hurt. You hurt her feelings. The one person in the world who cares for you besides Uncle, and you hurt her._

He swallowed unhappily. "I'm sorry," he mumbled, staring at the floor. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean that how it sounded. I'm sorry, I just—"

"Bridewealth," Bato said, his words metallic and clipped with barely suppressed fury, "is not a _payment._ It is a _gift_. It demonstrates _respect_. If you don't understand that—"

"What my nephew means," Iroh interposed deftly, "is that as Fire Lord, he has enough resources that wealth is no object. Whatever you decide is appropriate, he will be able to match."

For a long moment, the Water Tribe members remained silent. Zuko could feel the disapproval radiating off them like a solid wall. It was Pakku, after another glance at Iroh, who finally broke the silence with a sigh. "Yes. Well….that's a problem too. To be blunt, the wealth of the Fire Nation, and more so the Fire Lord, clearly outstrips that of the Water Tribe—at least, the Southern Water Tribe," he added a bit tartly. "If Zuko offers too much bridewealth—far more than anyone else in the Southern Water Tribe could offer—it could also be seen as an insult: the arrogant, wealthy Fire Lord demonstrating his power by showing those poor, backward Water Tribe peasants just how far beneath him they are." Right then, Zuko did not feel as if there was _anyone_ beneath him. He clasped his hands together and swallowed again, staring at the floor and wanting it to be over. "So the question then becomes: how much is appropriate—almost certainly less than either Katara merits or Zuko can offer—and how do we portray the final amount in such a manner as to avoid offense?"

Iroh was looking carefully at Zuko. "A delicate question," he agreed. "However, as I understand it, in the Water Tribe, such matters are usually negotiated between the elders—the couple in question need not be present. And these negotiations will be long and tiring. Perhaps this is a matter for another time."

Hakoda nodded. "Perhaps you are right. Let us adjourn for the evening."

Hakoda's house was at the edge of the village; it was a long, low multi-roomed igloo. Several Water Tribe coracles and kayaks of varying sizes were leaning up against the walls of the house and its outbuildings, secured in place by lashings of hide cords. Inside it was almost uncomfortably warm, compared to the chill in the air outside, with ice floors covered by rich, luxurious pelts and furs, and furnishings crafted out of ice and bone and hide; lamps burning whale oil and blubber hung on the walls, sending up acrid smoke. There were also a few vials of some kind of glowing water which gave a bluish light; Katara explained when Zuko asked her quietly that the water contained tiny animals too small to see that glowed in the dark.

"They're very expensive," Hakoda added, overhearing. "They have to come all the way from the Northern Water Tribe, and often the animals die in transit. Several of our own benders are working on growing the culture here, with Master Pakku's help but they are having difficulty getting the minerals in the water to be the correct balance. Katara, you've bent water all over the world, perhaps you can help them while you're here."

"I don't know much about that issue, but I can certainly try," Katara said gamely.

He and Iroh had accompanied Katara and Sokka to their father's home; Kanna and Pakku had an addition in back, which had been built by the waterbending master for his bride. "I told her let a construction team do it, but she was always yakking, yakking, yakking. 'They won't do it right. They'll be careless. I don't trust them.' You see what I have to put up with?" he groused, taking his wife's hand. Kanna kissed him under the ear. Zuko wondered glumly if Master Pakku had had to go through anything to marry Kanna like what he was going through to marry Katara. _Probably not. And I'm sure he didn't say stupid things like I do either._

"Wow, Dad, this is _huge_!" Sokka exclaimed, looking around. "It's, like five times as big as our house when we were kids!"

The entire structure was perhaps half the size of Zuko's private suite of apartments back in the Fire Palace. He was silent, hovering awkwardly in the background next to Iroh, wanting to sit down but not quite daring to.

"With all the benders who came down from the Northern Water Tribe, plus those who came back from the war, construction is booming," Hakoda said, nodding. "This house is on the edge of the village, but it won't be for long, with the way the town is growing."

"I just wish Mom could see it," Sokka continued sadly. "She'd be so amazed."

"Yeah." Katara looked down, and Hakoda's face was shadowed. There was silence for a moment.

At last, Sokka broke it. "Where's my whaling gear?" he asked. "I want to get it out and make sure it's all ready for tomorrow—I haven't touched it in over a year—"

"It's down the hall, second room on the left," Hakoda told him. "I've been looking after it, keeping it oiled, making sure the sinew is in good condition. You did a fine job making it, Sokka," he added, smiling, "even if you never got a chance to use it—it's much better than my first set of whaling gear was."

"Thanks, Dad," Sokka said sincerely. Hakoda reached out and rumpled his son's hair. Sokka ducked away, grinning, and trotted off down the passageway; a moment later a yelp of delight rang out as the water tribe warrior presumably got a look at his room.

"Zuko," Hakoda continued, turning toward the firebender, "I assume that you do not have a set of Water Tribe whaling gear, so you may use my spare set of tackle for the hunt tomorrow."

 _The hunt tomorrow._ Zuko swallowed down a sinking sensation in his guts. He didn't even want to think about that. _First light tomorrow…._

Katara was smiling at her father, he saw, her eyes shining. "Oh, Dad, are you _sure?_ " she asked him. She turned that bright, happy look on Zuko, taking his hand again.

"I'm sure, Katara," he told her. "He is going to be family, after all." That distant look was back in his eyes. _Assuming I survive, that is. And Hakoda looks so happy about it, too,_ Zuko thought dismally.

Iroh nudged him. "Hakoda is doing you a very big honor, nephew," he whispered. "A man's whaling gear is considered to be an extension of his spirit. He is essentially granting you his whaling expertise. Say thank you." Zuko put his hands together and offered a bow.

"Thank you," he said quietly. He felt as if he should say something else, remembered his blunder earlier, and decided it was probably best to shut his mouth.

"Anything for family," Hakoda said, with that distant look in his eyes. Zuko saw it and his heart sank.

Kanna prepared dinner that night, with Katara's help: a meal that Zuko found largely inedible. Perhaps he was too queasy to eat; at any rate, he wasn't up to tackling a meal consisting of stewed sea prunes and whale meat fried in what appeared to be rancid blubber. The other Water Tribe members pronounced it excellent—Sokka in particular crowed, "Awesome, Katara—I remember Mom always made this the night before Dad left on the whale hunts!" Iroh also ate with evident enthusiasm. "It's been many years since I've had authentic Water Tribe cuisine," he said, smiling genially.

"Missed it, have you, smokebreather?"

"There is nothing quite like it," he told Pakku. "It is lucky that we are having a Water Tribe woman marrying into the family, so that perhaps we can have it more often."

"That's right," Pakku said with a laugh. "She needs to fatten you up, my lad," he added, fetching Zuko a mighty clout on the shoulder that almost knocked him sideways—the water master looked like a frail old man, but Zuko's shoulder smarted from the blow. "You're skinny as a seal's rib; you'd never make it through one of our polar winters. You need a good Water Tribe woman to take care of you!" Zuko managed a nod, watching Pakku warily; he saw Katara give the water master an irritated look across the ice table. Zuko forced himself to choke down as much as he could, knowing that he would need his strength for the coming day.

After dinner, Iroh and Pakku set up a pai-sho board and began to play—"You owe me a rematch," Pakku ribbed him. "From forty years ago—the Earth Kingdom town of Wutai."

"I remember that—I kicked your tail." Iroh beamed.

Master Pakku raised an eyebrow. "You only won there because you cheated."

"I sure did!" Iroh said happily. They set out the tiles under the flickering light from the smoky lamps, as Kanna, pressing Katara into service, cleared the dishes away. Sokka had brought his whaling tackle out from his room and was laying it out on the tiger-seal-pelt-covered ice floor. It looked complicated enough that just the sight of it gave Zuko chills.

"Help me go over it, Dad," Sokka said. "I want to double-check and make sure that everything's fine for tomorrow."

"Certainly. Zuko, would you care to join us?" Hakoda invited politely. "It would be good for you to see this before the hunt."

"Thank you, sir. Maybe later," Zuko managed. "I…would like to get in a bit of firebending practice before sunset. If that's all right." At Hakoda's nod, he made his escape, ducking through the hangings of the long, low entryway.

The cold struck him as soon as he was outside with the force of a physical blow; the sun was low on the horizon, and its slanting rays gave no warmth. The sky was a crystal clear that made the incredible chill seem even colder than it was. His Fire Nation garments did little to protect him; shivering, he raised his internal temperature to compensate. _I can't stay out here for long,_ he thought, feeling the heavy draw on his resources; it was all right though. He just needed to get away from everyone for a little bit. _Just a few exercises, to clear my head and find my center…_ The snow squeaked under his boots as he made his way around back, where the hide boats were propped against the wall of the igloo.

Careful to keep his fire away from the boats— _that's all I need, to accidentally set Katara's father's boat on fire_ —he began to run through a few simple exercises. It was harder than he had thought; the cold dragged on his limbs like weight, and the energy drain was causing him to become fatigued very quickly. Steam rose off the ground where he stepped. His fire bursts were weak and feeble in the chill and glassy air; the ends of his new topknot grew damp with sweat that quickly turned to frost. _I can't take this cold. How does anyone live in this?_

He stopped for a brief rest, breathing hard, leaning against the waist-high fence—wall?—of solid ice that surrounded the igloo's yard, then snatched his hand back when he realized that he was melting into the wall. He had left a divot behind, not large, but enough to be noticeable. _Great. How do I fix this?_ He had gathered up a handful of snow and was trying to pack it into the dent when he heard footsteps behind him.

"Here. Let me."

"Katara…." With a sigh of relief he stepped away from the wall as his betrothed came up behind him. She looked gorgeous, he thought distantly, feeling the familiar ache in his chest at the sight of her. Her blue parka perfectly complimented her eyes, and they matched exactly the deepest shadows in the hollows of the snow hills around them, the crystal color of the sky stretching above them, the luminous hue of the blocks of ice that made up the walls and structures of her village. She was home; this was her land, he realized, her element, and in this setting she stood out with a radiant beauty that he had never seen in her before.

There were days when he still could not believe she wanted him. They were getting fewer.

She looked at the wall, and raised one eyebrow, screwing up her face charmingly. He grimaced. "I….kind of….broke your wall. Can you fix it before your father sees?"

"The nice thing about building houses out of ice is that they're really easy to repair," she said, smiling. "Especially for a waterbender." A quick gesture and the dent smoothed itself out as glossy and perfect as if it had never been there in the first place; Katara hopped up on the wall, kicking her boots— _mukluks,_ she had told him they were called—against it idly.

"Dad sent me out here to fix a crack in the roof," she told him, pointing; as she traced a line in the air with her fingers, he could see it: a barely visible glistening fault line in the perfect dome of the igloo. "That'll take about two seconds. I think he was really trying to give us some alone time." She smiled again and gestured to the wall beside her. "Come and sit next to me."

He turned away. "I'd better not. I'll just melt the wall again. It's so cold out here…." She hopped down and came up behind him, reaching up to put her arms around his shoulders and laying her head against his back. He would never have told anyone—well, maybe her if she asked him right—but he loved it when she did that; it made him feel strong and protective. _She trusts me to keep her safe._ She could do it herself, he knew she could….and in a way that made her trust all the more precious.

"Yes. I can feel how warm you are." There was sudden concern in her voice. "Are you sure you should do that out here, Zuko? I know how dangerous the cold can be and how much energy it can take to stay warm even without using firebending…."

"I know what I'm doing." It sounded harsher than he meant it, and he cursed silently; still, her question had pricked, and he was already sore.

"All right," Katara said without the slightest hint of indignation. "How are you holding up?"

The gentle sympathy in her voice made his eyes sting. He drew a careful breath, then another one. When he spoke, he could hear his unhappiness in his own voice. "Your father hates me."

"Oh, Zuko," Katara sighed. She stroked his shoulders softly.

"I'm sorry, Katara," he fumbled. "I'm sorry for what I said about your bride pr—bride _wealth_ ," he corrected himself forcibly. "I hurt your feelings, I could see it, and I didn't mean to—"

"My feelings did get hurt, but I know you didn't mean to," Katara said quietly. "You just didn't understand, that's all. You're not Water Tribe; no reason why you should. It's not a big deal. If anything I was oversensitive—it just caught me by surprise. I guess I had just somehow assumed that you would know all about bridewealth—which was pretty silly of me. No harm done."

"Tell that to your father." He shifted his feet. "He already didn't like me, and now with this—He hates me," he said again, glumly.

"Zuko, my father does not _hate_ you," Katara told him firmly. She turned him to face her. 'I know my father very well, I assure you. I would know if he hated you, and he doesn't." She paused. "I'm not going to lie to you—he's disappointed, and still sort of taken aback and trying to adjust to the idea. I think some part of it is that he always hoped that I would marry someone from Bato's family—at first maybe one of Bato's sons, but then when Bato never had any sons, perhaps one of his cousins or nephews. Bato's like a brother to Dad, and I think he really liked the idea of actually being joined to Bato by blood. It's hard for him to give up that idea, on top of everything else. But he'll come around," she told him. "Dad trusts me and he trusts my judgement. He trusts that I would not come home with anyone that is not worthy of me. And that's a good place to start."

Zuko sighed heavily, pulling away from Katara. He kicked at the snow, sending up a spray of it. "I feel like I keep doing everything wrong," he said in frustration. "It's great that Uncle and your waterbending master are friends, but I feel like everyone around me knows everything and I'm the only one who doesn't. I _hate_ it. I hate feeling like that."

Katara didn't answer. He looked back at her to see that her face was shadowed. After a moment, she said, "I guess that's pretty much how I'm going to feel when we get back to the Fire Nation, huh?"

 _The Fire Nation._ He was silent. As taxing as everything had been in the Water Tribe so far, Zuko realized he _still_ wasn't looking forward to returning home.

 _It's going to be worse,_ he realized with a chill. _Worse for her, and maybe even worse for me. At least…at least Hakoda's **trying**_. _Her family's at least trying to accept me…except maybe for Sokka. I don't have any family at all anymore except for Iroh. Half the people back home hate me anyway for helping Aang kill my father and stop the war. How are they going to feel when I bring home a Water Tribe peasant…especially after the defeat?_ They would treat her like dirt, he realized. The thought of Katara having to endure the way Fire Nation nobility treated anyone who was not of their element filled him with a sick, helpless anger. _And that's….that's even assuming they accept me as Fire Lord…._ He didn't even want to think about what might happen if they didn't.

He reached out and pulled her into his arms, holding her close, knowing he could do even less to help her there than she could do to help him here. She settled against his chest, and her arms went around his waist, holding him with surprising strength. be rough," he admitted. _That's the understatement of the year._

"We'll figure it out." Her words were brave, but there was a thread of doubt in her voice. "We'll be together anyway, and that's all that matters." He wondered if she really believed that. "Anyway, one thing at a time. First we have to finish this ceremony here."

"Yeah. There's that whale hunt tomorrow…." He trailed off.

Katara tipped her head up, putting one hand behind his head to force him to look down at her. "You're nervous about it, aren't you?"

He released her, turning away. "I've….never gone whaling before," he admitted. "I'm not sure what to expect."

"Well, Dad will lend you his tackle, and Sokka will be there."

 _That's not as reassuring as you might think,_ he thought.

Katara looked at him closely, seeing the tension in his shoulders. After a moment, she spoke. "As far as I'm concerned, you don't need to do this," she told him. "I know it's traditional, but I don't care. If you don't want to, we can find some other way."

He bit his lip. "If….if you married a Water Tribe man, would you care?"

"I don't want to marry a Water Tribe man. And I don't want you to feel like you have to do something you don't want to do, just for me. You don't have anything to prove to me," she told him, looking at him intently.

"I want…." He trailed off. He could see how much she loved her family, her people, all the things she had that he didn't. He could see how important her tribe was to her, and he remembered what Iroh had told him once—that the strength of the Water Tribe was in their community. _She deserves a husband that can make her proud in the eyes of her people. One that doesn't shame her by not being able to master Water Tribe skills._ But somehow he couldn't bring himself to say that—he couldn't say, _I want to make you proud of me, Katara_. _And besides….never give up without a fight._ He settled for a lame, "How hard can it be?"

She smiled then, and her eyes lit; he had written a haiku about that smile once, when he was feeling up to poetic experimentation, comparing it to the sun on the ocean. It had been awful—on his best days, he was a thoroughly mediocre poet—but she had loved it anyway. "I love you," she murmured. Hearing her say that warmed him more than fire ever could, even after all this time; when she reached up and slipped her arms around his neck and kissed him, it jolted him like an electric charge. Carefully, he closed his arms around her—she was so precious to him, that he suffered a superstitious fear of breaking her or hurting her. He knew it was foolish, but she was one of the few good things in his life, and he couldn't afford to lose her. _How did this happen? I was never this lucky…._

It wasn't until the kiss broke apart that he noticed how cold it was again. "I can't feel my toes." He stamped his feet on the frozen ground, tried to raise his temperature further to compensate, and was swamped with a sudden wave of weakness. "I think….I think I need to sit down. I've been out here too long."

"Yeah, we should probably go back inside," Katara murmured ruefully. "Dad wanted to show you his whaling gear before the hunt tomorrow, and maybe give you a few pointers. Plus, the sun's going down, and if you think it's cold in the daytime…." She paused. "Just a moment." With a quick gesture, she erased the hairline crack in the igloo's roof that she had shown him earlier. "See? Two seconds, just like I told you."

He managed a smile. "Can you give me a hand?" Katara pulled his arm across her shoulders and together, with him leaning on her a bit, they made their way back into the warmth of Katara's family igloo.


	4. Chapter 4

The sun was not yet up, and the southern lights rippled green and red and blue across the starry sky when Zuko, Hakoda, and Sokka left the igloo the next morning, heading through the village down to the empty beach from which the whaling boats would launch. Zuko was heavily loaded with the spears, lines, and floats Hakoda had given him; he had been barely awake before Katara's father had pushed him out the door, but the cold had struck him full force like a slap in the face and woken him up. He was feeling it full-strength too; he needed to conserve his energies for the hunt ahead, so he did not dare warm himself. Sokka, who was prancing like a war rhino eager for battle, didn't seem to feel the cold at all, nor did Hakoda.

"Wow, Dad, this is so great," Sokka exulted as they crunched through the fresh snowfall among the low white mounds of the igloos. His tackle was slung over his shoulder in a neat bundle; he was having nowhere near the difficulty managing everything that Zuko was. Zuko trailed behind the two of them, feeling like a cloak dragged on the ground. His breath plumed before him in the frigid air. He heard Sokka saying, "I can't believe I'm finally going to get a chance to go on one of these! I was wondering if they were ever going to hold the hunts again—"

"You are fortunate, my son, and I am sure you will do well," Hakoda said, smiling at his child. "Zuko!" he turned and called over his shoulder; Zuko, who had been lagging behind, hurried to catch up.

"Yes sir?" he managed, panting a bit and struggling with the tackle, as he came up beside them.

"I want you to stay close to Sokka today. Watch him and do everything he does. Sokka," Hakoda said, turning to his son, "keep an eye on Zuko. Make sure he doesn't get into trouble."

Zuko and Sokka glanced at each other. Zuko wondered if he looked as sour as Sokka did. "Yes, Dad," Sokka said, and Zuko nodded his own assent.

"Both of you," Hakoda continued, turning to look at both of them, "obey Bato. He will be your boat captain. It is his job to look out for inexperienced hunters, so if he tells you to do something, you do it, do you understand?"

"Yes, Dad," Sokka said, and Zuko added, "Yes sir."

"Under no circumstances try to make the kill yourself, except in the rare event that Bato expressly tells you it's all right. As a boat with an inexperienced crew, you will not be in the breaking wave—"

Sokka hissed in frustration. "But Dad—" he began angrily.

" _Sokka._ " Hakoda's voice was firm.

"Sorry, Dad," the Water Tribe boy said sullenly. Zuko said nothing. Not being in the "breaking wave," whatever that was, was just fine with him— _in fact, the farther back from the action, the better._

"You will not be in the breaking wave, and you will most likely not be among the boats in position to give the final blows. It is not necessary that you do so for this hunt to count. That is well. I don't want either of you taking a foolish chance and getting hurt, or worse, getting in the way of the experienced hunters and allowing the prey to escape. Our whole tribe depends on the success of these hunts; Sokka, you at least know the hardship a failed hunt could mean for our people this winter."

Sokka looked solemn. "Yes, Dad. I know," he said in a subdued voice. Zuko bit his lip. He hadn't thought that far—he'd just thought of this hunt as a hurdle he had to get over to marry Katara. The idea that people could suffer if this hunt failed was a sobering one.

"I understand," he said quietly, and was rewarded with an appraising look from Hakoda.

"I believe you do," he said at last. He paused, his blue eyes distant. "Both of you are intelligent young men," he said, looking at the two youths who stood before him, Water Tribe and Fire Nation, tan and pale. "I don't need to remind you that whale hunts can be dangerous…but I will anyway. Remember that discretion is the better part of valor. Both of you have young women whose hearts would grieve if you were to be claimed by La's watery depths. As would mine, for the loss of two fine young warriors."

Zuko looked up at him, surprised; Hakoda was as tall as his own father had been. _Does he mean that…?_

"Simply by participating in this hunt, you can be proud—proud that you have helped our people to survive, and proud that you have honored those who are counting on you. I will be proud of you both as well," he said simply.

"Yes, Dad. Thank you." Sokka looked very serious. Zuko was too caught up in thought to say anything.

 _He said…he'd be proud of us **both**_. _Did he mean that?_ The idea that Katara's father would be proud of him felt strange; he turned it over in his mind, examining it from all angles. _He couldn't really have meant that he would be proud of **me** —he was just saying it to be polite. Wasn't he? Could he really…_

"Come on," Hakoda told them both. "The boats are just up ahead."

The skin boats were drawn up in a long line along the snow-covered beach, dark oval shapes against the bluish white snow; men clad in blue and white fur parkas were busy around them, loading tackle and gear into them as the sky above them lightened toward day. Zuko could feel his firebending growing stronger as the sun began to crest the horizon; it was a clear day, with no overcast so far. His guts were knotted with apprehension as they stepped out onto the beach.

"That boat is yours," Hakoda said, indicating a boat toward the far end. "Do you see Bato?" The other Water Tribe man straightened from packing something into the prow of the boat and lifted a hand. "Go to him. Good luck, both of you." He put a hand on Zuko's shoulder, gave Sokka a quick embrace, then turned and walked off, toward the other end of the beach. Zuko watched him go uneasily; as distant as Katara's father was, he still would have preferred him as boat leader. Sokka looked uneasy too; _there's that at least._

"Come on," Sokka said roughly, turning away from his father's retreating back. "We can't hold up the hunt." He trotted off, down the beach to where Bato waited. Zuko followed, struggling with his harpoons, feeling acutely visible; he was sure everyone was looking at him. Hakoda had given him a set of Water Tribe furs to wear—"It is cold out on the ocean, and you will need to conserve your energy," he had told Zuko. "Water Tribe clothing is more suited to the climate than your own. Furthermore, if the boat is capsized, the Fire Nation armor you wear will pull you straight to the bottom. A parka can be shed much more easily if necessary." _If the boat is capsized…_ Zuko had agreed based on that argument alone. The clothing was too big for him—it had been Hakoda's when he was younger—but even swathed in the heavy furs and with his feet encased in mukluks, Zuko knew that everyone could tell right away from his complexion and eyes that he was Fire Nation. It might have been his imagination, but he thought he detected several hostile glances as he followed Sokka down the beach.

Bato had been talking quietly to two other Water Tribe youths when Zuko and Sokka arrived; he straightened up and turned his attention to them. "Sokka," he said warmly, then with less warmth, "Zuko. Hakoda has told you that you will be in my boat?"

"That's right," Sokka acknowledged. Zuko simply nodded.

"Meet Artaq and Sangok," he said, indicating the other two. Both were young men of about their age; Sangok was taller, with longish features, where Artaq was short and compact; both appeared to be a couple years older than Sokka. _He looks strong,_ Zuko thought, noting the breadth of Artaq's shoulders. "They are also young men preparing for marriage. Sangok is a waterbender, and we are fortunate to have him with us today. He is from the Northern Water Tribe." The waterbender lifted one hand shyly.

"I'm one of Master Pakku's students," he volunteered. "I came along with him when he came south."

"Artaq is one of our young warriors. Sokka, I believe you know him already."

"I do," Sokka muttered, looking at Artaq with dislike. Artaq returned the look insolently.

"I must go and speak to Hakoda with the other boat captains," Bato explained. "Zuko, Sokka, you can begin loading your gear into the boat. Sangok and Artaq have stored theirs already. I will be back shortly." Bato strode off down the beach; Zuko could see a knot of other Water Tribe men beginning to cluster around Hakoda.

Sokka was already putting his stuff in the prow of the boat, working fast and efficiently. Zuko leaned over the side of the boat to do the same, but Sokka stopped him. "Here," he said, yanking Zuko's harpoons out of his hands. "Let me see how you've coiled that rope."

Zuko handed over the harpoons and their attached thick coils of rope silently, keeping a careful hold on his temper. Sokka examined the coils of cable and made a face. "This is all wrong," he said in disgust. "Dad showed you how to do this last night. Weren't you paying attention?"

Rankled, Zuko responded, "What does it matter how they're coiled? I wasn't aware that there was some special Water Tribe way to coil rope."

"It has to be coiled so that it will pay out," Sokka's voice was harsh. "Dad _told_ you that last night. Now _I'm_ going to have to do it all over because _you_ screwed it up the first time. Don't _touch_ it. Stand there and watch, maybe you'll learn something." Working fast, Sokka began to unwind the heavy hawser attached to the bone shaft, cursing under his breath as the rope piled up at his feet. "The harpoon toggle heads are secured wrong, too," he added, holding up one of the barbed metal points so that Zuko could see it. " _Look._ See? You've got the grommet too far back—it's going to slip off too easily." He was already rapidly coiling the rope around and around in careful, overlapping layers; Zuko had to admit he looked like he knew what he was doing. Sokka wasn't even watching his hands, but still each swift turn of the cable was perfectly spaced. "Leave this much free. It looks like a lot, but it's not. And be sure the floats attached to the line are untangled. Then you secure this end to the prow of the boat like that—make sure it's really tight—"

"Why?"

"So it doesn't slip off when the whale runs, of course." Sokka looked annoyed, as if he felt he shouldn't have to explain.

"When the What does that mean?"

"Don't you know _anything?_ It—You know what, never mind," Sokka said, with a not particularly nice smile. "You'll find out."

Zuko tensed in anger. He was already on edge about this hunt, and Sokka's smirk wasn't helping—he was starting to be reminded unpleasantly of Azula. "Tell me now," he demanded sharply. He could feel that his hands were starting to heat up.

"What's the matter, Sokka?" The sneer from Artaq brought them both up short. The other water tribe warrior had already stowed his gear and was leaning against the side of the umiak, watching them. "Don't like playing babysitter to your brother-in-law?"

"Shut up, Artaq," Sokka said sourly.

"You're going to marry _Katara_?" Sangok piped up from the stern of the boat. The young waterbender's eyes were wide with respect as he looked at Zuko, and he offered a shy smile. "Wow, you're really brave. A lot braver than _I_ am. I'd rather go on a hundred whale hunts than marry _her_. Not that I mean any offense," he added quickly.

Sangok's friendly expression was the most sympathy Zuko had seen that morning, and he found himself offering a hesitant smile in return. "You know Katara?"

"She and I were in training with Master Pakku at the same time in the Northern Water Tribe. We used to spar together….she always won," Sangok admitted, hanging his head.

"That sounds like her," Zuko replied, unable to suppress a grin.

Sangok grinned back ruefully, and for a moment Zuko thought it would be all right, but then he asked, "Where are you from, anyway? You don't look like you're Water Tribe—"

"Sangok, you idiot," Artaq sneered. "Don't you know who this is?" Then as Zuko stood there, clenching his fists in frustration, the Water Tribe warrior continued, "He's from the Fire Nation. You're looking at the new Fire Lord."

The waterbender's dark complexion paled in shock; the friendliness drained from his expression and he recoiled as if looking at a venomous serpent. Zuko felt himself flush in helpless anger. _So much for that,_ he thought. "What are you doing on our boat?" Sangok asked in a trembling voice. "Artaq, get him off—I don't want him coming with us!"

 _I can't start a fight with Katara's people,_ Zuko thought, drawing a deep breath. The air was so cold it was like breathing glass. _No matter how much I want to…I can't… I can't…_ Sokka's face was sour, Zuko saw out of the corner of his eye; it looked as if he was struggling with who he disliked more, Zuko or Artaq.

"Who do you want off this boat, Sangok?"

The words of the returned Bato interrupted the standoff; everyone turned to see the older Water Tribe man, drawing up to their boat. In the distance, the knot of people around Hakoda was breaking up, men streaming toward the crafts that littered the shore. Bato paused for a moment, regarding the young men before him.

"Go on, Sangok," he prodded. "Who do you want off the boat?"

Sangok stammered for a moment, intimidated by Bato's imposing presence; Zuko felt a strange moment of sympathy for him. "H-him. Bato, he's the Fire Lord—"

"He is. And he is going to marry Chief Hakoda's daughter," Bato replied, his eyes distant. "Hakoda himself wanted Zuko assigned to this boat, under my command. He stays. You are free to leave if you so wish. That goes for you too, Artaq." Both the Water Tribe men dropped their heads and mumbled denials. "Very well. Sokka, Zuko, you have your gear stowed?"

"Yes, Bato," Sokka said, while Zuko nodded. Bato looked over the side of the boat.

"Nice work, Sokka, Zuko," he praised. "Hakoda is about to give the blessing, and then we will launch." He turned to look down the beach, to where Katara's father was standing, facing the assembled contingent of Water Tribe men. The rays of the morning sun sparkled off the snow behind Hakoda, turning the beach into a bright field. Even at this distance, Zuko could see Hakoda's eyes narrowed against the dawn. The chief held up his hands.

"Men of the Water Tribe!" he began.

 _And Fire Nation,_ Zuko thought.

"We are gathered here this dawn for a momentous occasion: The launch of the first whale hunt of the season. And these hunts are even more significant, for this is the first time the great whale hunts of the Southern Water Tribe have been held in many seasons. Since the survival hunts three years ago, before the hunters left for war."

Sokka was watching his father, his face very serious; seeing Zuko glance in his direction curiously, he hesitated, then leaned over. He whispered to Zuko, "I remember before the hunters left for the war, they were out every day for three months, trying to bring in enough to feed the tribe for however long they would be gone. They brought in more kills than even the tribal elders ever remembered being taken in one season, but the village was still running short by the time Katara and I left—"

"Sokka," Bato reproved, "be silent during the invocation."

"Sorry, Bato," Sokka apologized. Artaq smirked at him. Zuko ignored the byplay, frowning in thought, starting to come to a better understanding of just how important these hunts were.

"Today," Hakoda was continuing, "the war is over, and the hunters have returned. We adapted to the time of hardship—we changed to meet it, but we did not let it change the core of who we are. The time of darkness and sorrow has passed, but no one knows what the future will hold. However, one thing is certain: If all else changes, we are, and will remain, Water Tribe. Our community is strong."

"That's almost exactly the same thing Chief Dumaq said three years ago before the warriors left," Sokka whispered again to Zuko.

"Let these hunts be seen as an affirmation!" Hakoda called, holding up his hands. "We are continuity through change: we are Water Tribe!"

" _We are Water Tribe!"_ the hunters on the beach echoed. Zuko was silent, wishing.

Hakoda lifted his eyes to the heavens. His voice grew deeper, his words and phraseology more formal; Zuko could tell that what Hakoda was saying now was ritual. "Tui and La, the Moon and Ocean: Spirits of our tribe, we call upon you now. Give your blessing and your protection to us, your people, that our hunt might be successful, and that our tribe might live. Tui, great and benevolent Moon Goddess: Let your rays light the ocean, and shed the moon path on the waters, leading our warriors to their prey and then safely back to the waiting hearts of our people."

"Yue, keep an eye on us, okay?" he heard Sokka murmur beside him. Again, Zuko wondered who Yue was.

"La, mighty Spirit of the Ocean: Give your great strength to our hunters, that they might travel far and strike true. Grant your mercy to those hunters who enter your domain, and render them up again, safely back to the open arms of our people.

"Together, Tui and La, we the Water Tribe beseech you for the success of this hunt and the safety of those who set forth upon it. Shed your light and your mercy on us forever."

" _Shed your light and your mercy on us forever."_ The assembled Water Tribe hunters echoed Hakoda's last line, and this time Zuko joined in.

Hakoda dropped his hands. That seemed to be the signal; the assembled crews jumped into action. "Now what?" Zuko asked Sokka, as the Water Tribe youth straightened up. Sokka had turned to grip the side of the umiak; Artaq and Bato were already dragging it over the icy sand, while Sangok was drawing the water in from the ocean to lift the hide craft.

"Now?" Sokka grunted, throwing his back into pushing the boat. "Now, we shove off."


	5. Chapter 5

A small flotilla of crafts surrounded their umiak, heading further and further out into the iron-gray seas as the beach receded into the distance. The sky had started out clear but clouds were rolling in; it looked as if it would be overcast by noon. "Here," Sokka had said, pulling a long oar from the bottom of the boat; he shoved it into Zuko's hands. "Start paddling."

"I thought we had a _waterbender_ with us," Zuko replied, looking with annoyance at Sangok who sat doing nothing in the stern of the boat; he saw that Artaq and Sokka were getting out additional paddles and Bato already had his in the water. "Why do we need to do this?"

Sangok flushed and looked down; Sokka scowled and would have spoken, but Bato beat him to it, looking back over his shoulder. "Most of the other boats do not have waterbenders with them. We are fortunate, particularly because this one was trained by Master Pakku himself. Paddling can be done by anyone. Sangok needs to conserve his strength."

"Why?"

"You'll find out," Sokka said with that same superior grin. Zuko could feel his temper starting to rise.

"How many whale hunts have _you_ been on?" he asked sharply.

"Hey, I've been training for this since I was little," Sokka retorted. "This is what men of the Water Tribe _do._ "

"Maybe that explains why the Water Tribe—" Zuko fell silent, smirking. Sokka's face clouded.

"Why the Water Tribe _what?_ " he demanded.

"Nothing." Zuko let his grin widen.

"No. Spit it out, fire brat. What were you going to say?"

"Bad luck to have someone from the Fire Nation in our boat anyway," Artaq added, shooting a smug look over his shoulder from where he sat in the prow with Bato. "At least he's not marrying into _my_ family."

"Artaq—" Sokka began with rising anger. Sangok cowered in the stern of the craft, looking nervous.

Bato suddenly raised his paddle and slapped the water with it. _"Stop,"_ the older Water Tribe man said, turning to look over his shoulder coldly. "Stow your paddles."

Sullenly, the three youths pulled their paddles in, laying them in the bottom of the boat. The other boats in the flotilla passed them by as Bato turned to give all three of them a stern stare.

"I don't care what the three of you are arguing about. It stops. _Now._ " He paused, his blue eyes cold. Zuko swallowed with a sudden chill. "Do you understand?"

"Yes, Bato," Sokka and Artaq said at once, meekly. Zuko echoed, "Yes sir."

Bato looked at them all for a moment longer. "Water is the most treacherous and unpredictable of all the elements, and we are on the sea, in pursuit of the great whales. Sokka. Artaq. What is the old salt saying about the whale hunt?"

The two Water Tribe youths repeated meekly, and Sangok joined in, " _On the whale hunt, all are brothers._ " Zuko was silent, having never heard that saying before.

"Correct." He paused again. "Soon we will be in a situation where our lives will depend on each other. If I hear one more word of argument, I will turn the boat around and head back to shore, rather than risk the hunt with a crew who cannot cooperate. This is your marriage hunt. Your young women are depending on you. You are almost men. _Act_ like it."

Bato stared at them all pointedly. Sokka and Artaq both hung their heads, looking shamefaced. For Zuko's part, he was thinking of Katara, and how he had wanted not to disgrace her. And here he was, getting into a fight with her brother. _I'm sorry, Katara,_ he thought.

"Yes, Bato," the three of them chorused. Even though Sangok was not getting yelled at, he also looked repentant.

"Very well." Bato dipped his paddle back into the water. "Now, row." He looked at them all. "We need to catch up with the rest of the flotilla."

As they continued to stroke, and the beach grew smaller and smaller, then disappeared behind them, the tension lessened. Sokka's hostility drained away to be replaced with an air of anticipation, while Artaq seemed to sink into his own thoughts. Sangok, behind them, looked nervous, and spent a lot of time chewing his lip. Zuko, for his part, was as nervous as Sangok looked, if not more so; he tried to put all thoughts of what might be coming out of his head and just concentrate on working his paddle, digging at the water, dipping it into and out of the dull gray, cold sea. The wind was picking up a bit; salt spray lashed his face. His back and shoulders were starting to ache from the repetitive effort, and his hands were growing sore inside his heavy mittens. It prickled him that Sokka did not appear to be showing any signs of strain.

Their flotilla consisted of about a dozen umiaks like theirs, Zuko saw, generally with crews of around six; there were also a couple long wooden boats that he was told were Northern Water Tribe style. He was surprised to see that there were also many of those single-occupant hide boats—kayaks—sculling out along with the umiaks, usually with older men paddling them.

"That's the old style of whale hunting," Sokka explained when he asked quietly. "In the days when Dad and Bato were kids, everyone hunted that way. It gradually began to change while they were growing up to what we do now, but there are still a lot of older hunters who do it the way they learned it. That's why I had to learn how to make a kayak when I was a kid," he added in an undertone. "Even though it's changing, everyone still learns to do it the old way, too. Just in case."

"Just in case of what?" Zuko asked.

"Just in case all the hunters have to go off to war to fight the Fire Nation and there aren't enough left behind to form the hunting waves," Artaq said, looking over his shoulder with open hostility. Zuko tensed angrily, his hands tightening on his paddle; he might have spoken, but Bato looked back at them again.

"Enough," he said firmly. "Back water. See? Hakoda has called for a halt." In the lead umiak far ahead of them, Hakoda had risen and was holding up his hands. "We must be getting close."

"Sangok," Bato said now, turning to the waterbender; Sangok swallowed nervously, then squared his shoulders. "Can you feel them?"

Sangok took his mitten off and laid his fingertips lightly on the surface of water alongside the craft. He frowned in concentration, then paled. "I…I can't be sure," he said helplessly. "But it _feels_ like…like there's a couple of them, perhaps three or four. Maybe a mile or so north?" he asked, looking up at Bato.

Bato nodded. "Good. We are lucky that you are with us today." He paused, turning back to the figure of Hakoda, who was gesturing. "He's giving the signal to regroup. Back water," he said again. "Then stow your oars. Sangok, get ready. Whales have good ears and might hear us coming if we paddle; the flotilla will bend the rest of the way there."

Sangok seemed to set himself. "Yes, sir," he said quietly.

With some splashing and maneuvering, the flotilla reorganized, into roughly the shape of a double crescent, and Zuko saw what was meant by "breaking wave": the umiaks formed two lines, with six vessels in front, six to rear. Theirs was in the rear line, on one side of the horn. The kayaks formed up around them, loosely echoing the crescent shape.

Once everyone was in place, Hakoda, still standing, gestured again. Sangok in the stern rose to a kneeling position, raising his hands and assuming a wide-kneed stance that Zuko could see elevated him enough to see over those in front of him while at the same time stabilizing him against the pitch and roll of the craft. Looking quickly over the rest of the umiaks, Zuko saw perhaps five or six other similar such figures; slightly more with hands raised were in among the kayak men.

He had expected that the waterbenders would create a powerful wave that would carry the crafts along, but instead it was as if the vessels were caught in a gentle current; they simply flowed noiselessly along the ocean's surface as if on the surface of a river, weaving occasionally around floating chunks of ice. A stealthy silence had descended over the fleet, a silence the likes of which Zuko had not experienced before but instantly identified: it was the silence of the hunter, stealing up on his quarry. Sangok looked pale and strained as he went through his bending motions in the back of the boat. Sokka was fiddling with his harpoon, flicking the grommet on and off the toggle absently, and Artaq kept fidgeting on his seat ahead of them. Zuko's guts were crawling and it was hard for him to breathe. He realized he was sweating; the anxiety was so thick that he no longer noticed the cold. Only Bato was calm.

The older Water Tribe man glanced back at Sokka. "Put it down," he said quietly. "Should we get within range of one of the whales, I will cast the harpoon. None of you will throw unless I tell you."

Zuko wondered if Sokka was going to react with anger, but he only nodded. "Yes, Bato," he said, and laid the harpoon down.

Bato turned to where Sangok was still bending, in the stern. "Sangok," he said. The bender looked up at him.

"Yes, Bato?"

"Like the others, this is your first whale hunt ever. When it begins, your responsibility will be to this crew only, do you understand?" he said gently. "There are other, much more experienced waterbenders in the flotilla, and in any case, men of the South Pole are accustomed to hunting without benders to help them. All you need to be concerned about is this boat. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Bato," Sangok murmured in reply. "I understand."

 _When_ what _begins?_ Zuko thought, swallowing.

At the front of the flotilla, Hakoda had risen in his craft again and was gesturing. Sangok dropped his arms and laid his fingertips on the surface of the water. Zuko could see it rippled unnaturally around his hand, rising halfway up his wrist then subsiding.

"We're coming up onto them," Bato murmured in an undertone.

"Yes," Sangok agreed. "Hakoda's waterbender just gave the signal."

Artaq leaned forward, putting his hand to his eyes. "I see them!"

At Artaq's words, everyone in the boat turned to look in the direction he had indicated. Zuko strained his eyes but saw nothing except the choppy gray sea, eddying around a group of barren rock islands, large enough for a man to stand on. The islands were dark grayish black, and glistening with spray. "I don't see anything."

"You're looking right at them," Sokka said. _"See?"_

"Stupid fire brat," Artaq put in, too low for Bato to hear.

"No, I don't _see,_ " Zuko responded angrily. "If you Water Tribe think—"

He broke off abruptly as suddenly, from one of the featureless dull gray islands, a jet of spray fountained up. Even from that distance, he could tell it was as high as a man, wreathing gracefully in the cold air. Suddenly the island rolled over, raising a long fin out of the water; the fin came down, slapping the surface of the ocean almost playfully and sending a gout of water splashing.

"Y—you mean those islands are—"

"Not islands." Sokka leaned forward, gripping the edge of the umiak. "There she blows."

"We're going to hunt _those?_ " As Zuko stared at the huge whales in the water, suddenly the hide boat standing between him and the chill ocean seemed very fragile and the whole expedition seemed like madness. No one answered him. Sokka was grinning, looking nervous and excited all at once; Artaq had the same expression on his face. Sangok looked as if he really wished he were somewhere else. Only Bato was calm.

"All right," Bato said shortly. "Everyone, be ready. Sokka, hand me that harpoon." Sokka did so at once. The first line of ships was spreading out silently across the surface of the water; the arms of the crescent straightened out and then widened to arc around the group of whales in a loose and scattered semicircle, each of the umiaks accompanied by several of the smaller kayaks. _Breaking wave,_ Zuko thought. So slowly and carefully were the waterbenders moving the boats that there was hardly even a ripple or splash. The kayak men were paddling, but with such skill that they made not even a wave. One of the whales spouted again, sending spray jetting into the air as high as a tree.

"Sangok," Bato told the waterbender. "Take us out of the line." The second line was beginning to break up now, Zuko could see, the umiaks to either side of his own craft dropping away; as he turned to look over his side of the boat, he saw that several of the men in the umiak some distance away to their left gestured across the widening space of gray sea between the craft.

Attended by kayaks, the individual boats in the second line spread out into a loose, widely-scattered arc that roughly paralleled the first, albeit at a considerable distance away. "The attack by the breaking wave will panic the pod and put it to flight. We will remain at a distance, in reserve. If a whale comes our way, we will attempt to take it; however, if none does, then we will not risk ourselves in pursuit. Do you all understand?" Bato asked, and everyone nodded. "Get ready. The harpooneers are in position."

As he spoke, Zuko could see the crews of the umiaks in the front line. By his count, there were at least five whales in the pod. Hakoda's umiak and its associated kayaks had targeted the largest of the whales; Zuko watched as Katara's father rose up in the bow of his boat, on one knee. The sun broke through the clouds as he raised his harpoon above his head; other figures in the other umiaks and longboats were doing the same, as were the men in kayaks. All this motion was happening slowly, stealthily, in near-complete silence. Bato had his hands wrapped around his own harpoon, his jaw set grimly. The sun glistened off the tip of Hakoda's spear. Zuko's hands were clutching the side of the boat so hard that they throbbed. It seemed as if the moment stretched itself out agonizingly….

Then, as if at a predetermined signal, the hunters hurled their weapons.

To Zuko's confused eyes, it seemed as if everything began happening at once. The sea became a roiling, boiling mass of chaos. The silence exploded; the men in the boats were shouting orders, backing water frantically with bending and paddles, pulling away from the frothy, turbulent mass. Zuko could see red tinges in the foam that was being churned up by all the activity—blood, he realized. Whale blood. A massive fin reared up out of the water; another one; then a tail soared up, standing to several times the height of a man; it vanished with a powerful thrust beneath the surface, slapping the water and sending up a mighty shockwave. Huge bodies were thrashing in the chop; a back broke through the foam here, a fin there, but the water hid most of it so it was impossible to see clearly. The men in the kayaks were rapidly throwing what looked like barrels or inflated animal hides over the sides of their boats, then sculling away as quickly as they could, their tiny crafts tossing like leaves on the waves being kicked up.

"What's happening?" he demanded from Sokka, struggling to make sense of what he was seeing. "What are the kayaks doing? Why are they backing—"

Sokka's grip on the side of the umiak was white-knuckled as he watched the action. Sangok was backing their own boat up a bit to put some more distance between them and the kill zone; they were bobbing in the waves being kicked up. Bato's blue eyes were narrowed and alert. "Floats." Sokka's voice was rough with tension and he never took his eyes off the action. "They were attached to the harpoons. The guys in the kayaks are throwing them overboard now. They have to back away because hurt whales are _dangerous,_ in case you didn't know. Now be _quiet_ and pay attention."

"But—" Zuko's eyes went to the bloody froth on the water, the shouting men in the boats, the thrashing whales. "Is—is that it? Is the hunt over? Are the whales dying? It didn't seem like that big a deal—"

He fell silent as Sokka gave a harsh laugh. "Not even close."

 _Not even close? But what—_

Suddenly there was a loud shout from one of the boats up ahead—it was one of the two Northern Water Tribe longboats, an intricately painted craft with eyes on either side of its hull. As Zuko watched, a huge wave of water rose under the boat, lifting it; the prow of the boat sank, then suddenly rose dramatically, tipping the boat up. As it crashed back down, sending up a gout of white spray, a long bow wave began to rush along the surface of the water, away from the rolling froth, directly toward them

Bato set himself, raising his harpoon. "Everyone, grab onto something and get ready. Sangok—"

"Yes sir!"

" _What happened?_ " Zuko demanded angrily, unable to suppress his fear. Sokka had taken a grip on the side of the boat and was holding onto the line that ran along the top of the umiak; quickly, Zuko did the same. "What's going on—"

"The rope broke," Sokka snapped at him, bracing his feet against the sides of the vessel. _The rope? What rope?_ Zuko wondered, quickly imitating Sokka. The Water Tribe hunter's tan complexion had paled, and for the first time Zuko saw what might have been open fear on Sokka's face—fear mixed with a wild, thrilling excitement.

Artaq looked back over his shoulder, and he saw that same fear and excitement on the other youth's face. "Ready for this? I'll give you fair warning: Hang on tight, fire brat, because if you go in the drink we're not hauling you out."

"Go in the drink? What—" Zuko shifted on his seat to get a better grip, cursing himself, then broke off.

The running wave was heading roughly for the space between them and the umiak to their left. Zuko could see flashes of something tremendously large, long and dark beneath the surface of the water, but the waves and foam distorted and obscured it. _It's a whale,_ he realized. _It's so huge…_ Sangok had risen to his knees again and was frantically making bending gestures, backing water to put some more distance between them and the rising crest of the water; their own boat was beginning to bob violently; and the paddles rattled in the bottom. Zuko could hear the shouted commands of the men in the umiak to their left as they and a couple of kayaks moved to intercept, but they had no bender with them and were getting into position too slowly. They would not make it in time. Bato hauled back as Sangok drew them off to the side; Zuko saw the man's powerful shoulders flex as he raised his harpoon. The iron edge of the harpoon tip shimmered in the sunlight. The wave was skimming closer and closer; Bato held himself poised for an instant, then his arm and shoulder snapped forward in a mighty heave. The harpoon launched from its hand, trailing its rope behind it, to sink into flesh underneath the surface of the wave crest.

The rolling wave stopped suddenly, and their little hide craft rocked in the backwash. The dark, half-obscured shape in the gray waters had vanished. Zuko's heart was pounding in his chest. "What's happening?" he demanded.

"Shut up!" Sokka snapped at him. Bato had lowered himself from the prow and had taken a grip on the side of the boat.

"Hold on," he said grimly.

For a moment, there was nothing. Then a hissing sound came to Zuko's ears; he looked and saw that the coils of rope to which the harpoon was attached were beginning to run out, over the prow of the boat, at terrific speed. The rope had been turned around the stempost of the boat to slow it down; it was this that was making the hissing sound.

"See why I told you it was so important that the rope be coiled exactly?" Sokka told him.

"What's going on? What's going to happen?"

"It's diving."

The craft rocked. "Sangok, steady it," Bato ordered sharply; he heard the waterbender in the back swallow audibly.

"Yes, Bato." A couple of gestures and the water around them stilled.

"It's diving as deep as it can go—it looked like a couple of the kayak men had already attached floats to it, so it probably can't go that deep," Sokka was telling him in an undertone; his voice was taut. "After a bit…it'll come back up."

"And then it dies?"

"And then the fun begins." Sokka grinned tightly. Zuko's breath was ragged; his palms were slick with sweat. Numbly, he cursed the Water Tribe and their stupid whale hunts, barely even aware of what he was doing. The small hide craft was rocking again, despite Sangok's best efforts; the waterbender's face was tense with the effort to counteract the forces of the waves.

"Bato, the rope's smoking. Where it turns around the stempost." That was Artaq. His bravado was gone; he sounded tense as well.

"Douse it," Bato said shortly. There was a splash and a slight sizzle.

"Friction," Sokka explained. "The rope's getting too hot."

 _I **know** what friction is, Water peasant,_ Zuko thought, but said nothing. There was a slight jerk, and then the hissing stopped. Zuko looked at Sokka.

"It's not diving anymore?"

"Nope. Wait a minute."

"Sangok, get ready. Where is it?" Bato asked.

"I don't—I—" Sangok gestured, drawing some of the water up so that he could touch it without having to put his hand over the side. "It's—" Then he paled.

"What?"

"It's underneath us—it's coming right at us!"

Zuko froze. His hands were so numb he could hardly hold onto the side of the boat. He had a very vivid image in his mind of the powerful whale versus their tiny hide craft and what would happen when the two of them met. _Why didn't I stay on the beach? How did I get myself into this?_

" _Don't panic,_ " Bato's voice was hard as iron. "Sangok, back us up. _Now!_ "

"Yes Bato!" The craft was bobbing violently in the water kicked up by the onrushing giant. Sangok swallowed again, then lifted his hands. With a mighty heave, he sent the craft shooting backwards, so suddenly that Zuko was thrown to the floor of the boat. He heard Sokka's cry. Spray splashed over the hide sides of the boat to soak his hair and clothing and sting his eyes. Struggling, he pushed himself up again, to see…..

 _Agni._

Perhaps twenty feet in front of him, the water erupted, geysering upward with a terrifying roar, crashing back down, sprinkling the surface of the ocean and soaking the occupants of the umiak. Out of that water, raising up and up, lifted a huge grey mountain of flesh mottled with white callosities, dark and glistening with sea spray. The wave kicked up by its passage sent the boat surging even further backwards, throwing Zuko to the floor on his back again, staring up at the creature as it towered above their tiny craft. Up, it surged up, and up, and still up, blocking out the sky, standing forty feet or more in the air, throwing its shadow over the occupants of the umiak. It was trailing the cord of their harpoon; he saw it sticking out of the creature's back, looking as small and meaningless as a child's toy. The enormity of the creature was unbelievable; it froze his blood in his veins, froze his muscles, turned his entire body to ice. He had forgotten to breathe. _This is crazy. This whole thing is crazy. We can't kill that thing—a couple of guys in hide boats—it would take an iron **warship** …._ Then it was gone, and there was only one thought that stood out clearly in his mind:

 _We are going to die._

" _WHAAAAALE!"_

Sokka's wild, jubilant scream rang out, followed by Artaq's full-throated roar: _"YEAH!"_ He could hear Sangok whimpering, but it seemed in a different world. Bato remained motionless in the prow of the boat, holding on, his back to the youths behind him, his face raised to the towering whale. _It's as tall as Aang in the Avatar state,_ Zuko thought numbly. It hung there for a single instant that seemingly stretched out to forever, then slowly, agonizingly slowly, began to tilt. _If it falls on us—_

It fell away. The mass of the whale hit the water with a splash, sending up jets on either side of it to rain over the ocean, over the boat, soaking everything. The umiak and all its occupants were shaken violently; one of the paddles whammed Zuko on the nose hard enough to make his eyes sting. He grabbed the side of the boat, hauling himself into a half-crouch, half-kneel, trying to blink the spray from his eyes. Sokka had not been knocked down; he was still as he had been, his eyes wide, grinning in wild delight. He whipped a glance at Zuko, inviting him to share in the enthusiasm. _"All **right!**!"_ he cheered.

"It's going to run!" Bato shouted from the prow. "Sokka—Throw out the drogue!"

"Right!" Sokka turned, grabbing a mass of hide and cord that Zuko had not paid attention to before; rapidly he began to dump this into the water alongside the boat. Bato turned his attention to the waterbender.

"Sangok—get ready! This is your task—keep the boat stable!"

"Yes, Bato!"

Zuko shot a glance back at him. Sangok was no longer nervous, or scared; the young waterbender's jaw was set, firmly resolute. He braced his knees against the sides of the boat and raised his hands. Zuko was shaking. He had no idea what was happening. _Run? **What?**_

" _What's going to happen?_ " Zuko shouted furiously at Sokka.

"Hold on tight!" Sokka said, laughing wildly. Zuko wanted to blast the Water Tribe warrior for that laugh alone. Sokka was in his element, and Zuko had never been farther from his own. Before them, there was a splash—the water was parting, a massive tail lifting up, flukes rising high above the boat, dripping with salt. "You're about to experience a good old Water Tribe sleigh ride!"

The tail came down with a powerful thrust. The hawser snapped taut. The boat jerked into motion so suddenly that it whiplashed his head on his neck; he banged his forehead on the seat in front of him hard enough that white lights burst before his eyes, then was hurled violently into the back of the boat as the craft took off after the racing whale. He smacked into the floor of the umiak just inches from where Sangok knelt. One of the paddles was digging agonizingly into his back. The boat was banging and lurching all over the place, jolting from side to side; it was like being inside a barrel as it was rolled downhill. Zuko was thrown first to one side, then the other as the umiak rattled and shook.

He blinked, trying desperately to focus. From his perspective Sangok loomed, towering high above him, silhouetted against the cloudy sky. The waterbender spared him not so much as a glance. His expression was firm, his eyes fixed straight ahead. As Zuko rolled his head from side to side, trying to clear his head, he saw Sangok hold out his hands, palms parallel with the surface of the water; he braced his shoulders, and with a strong movement, pushed down.

Zuko felt the umiak slant as the fragile hide shell responded to Sangok's movement; the prow of the boat was rising up out of the water as the whole craft tipped towards its back end. _He's going to throw us out the back…!_ There was a tremendous rattling as all manner of stuff went sliding down the tilted floor of the boat toward its stern: spare paddles, buckets, water casks, and other odds and ends; Zuko felt himself sliding too and hung on for dear life. _Not the harpoons, not the harpoons…_ The umiak was no longer bouncing; instead it was shaking and vibrating as if it were on the verge of tearing itself apart, slewing from side to side across the water's surface in sweeping powerful arcs that tipped the craft first one way, then the other. Zuko saw Sangok, his shoulders tight with effort, staring determinedly over the prow as he described the boat's curves with his hands. His hands were trembling with strain, and his blue eyes were narrowed to slits as he traced the air and the umiak responded. Beyond him, Zuko could barely make out a roostertail of spray being kicked up by the speed of their travel, splashing over the gray ocean.

Trembling, Zuko jammed his feet against either side of the boat. His hands gripped the near side in a clawlike grip as he hauled himself up. The wind struck him in the face like a blow, snatching his breath, lacerating his cheeks and stinging his eyes. He tried to focus. He could see the fuzzy shape of Bato kneeling in the prow of the boat, doing something with the line that led from their boat to the harpoon in the whale; Sokka and Artaq crouched on either side of him, both holding paddles raised to dig into the water should it be necessary. All their backs were to him. Over the wind howling in his ears, he heard Sokka's wild war whoop; then an answering cry of exhilaration rang out from Artaq. Bato began to sing, a deep, droning chant that carried over the wind and surged like the waves. After a moment, the lighter, higher voices of the two younger warriors picked it up.

"Come on, join in!" Sangok called to him excitedly, before lifting his voice to join the chant himself. Around Zuko, the voices of the Water Tribe men rose above the racket in braided, powerful harmony, singing words that he could not distinguish through the screaming wind. Zuko set his teeth, holding onto the boat for all he was worth. His hands were cold and frozen; his muscles ached, and his body felt dangerously weak. Numbly he wondered again why he had ever come out here. _Madness. It's madness. Worse than that, it's suicide…_

 _I'm slipping._ _Agni, I'm slipping…_ Desperately he tried to tighten his grip, but his fingers were stiff and would not obey him. He tried to jam his knees harder against the sides of the racing craft, but could find no purchase. Every vibration of the boat caused his grip to loosen. _I can't hold on_. The thought was a cold certainty.

There was a thunderous splash ahead of them, and more spray rained heavily over the boat's occupants as the whale breached, its huge body cresting the waves and rising out of the water. The craft's speed slackened for a fraction of an instant, then the line snapped taut again and the umiak was yanked sharply ahead. Zuko's hands came off the edges of the boat entirely, leaving him grasping at air. He snatched uselessly at the boat, but could not get hold of anything. His hands were as stiff as blocks of wood. He swayed, trying to keep his balance as Sangok threw the boat into a long, sweeping curve, then another one, still singing; first the far, then the near side of the boat came up, shaking him loose and tipping him toward the water. His knees were sliding. He tried to call for help, but the wind snatched his breath from him.

 _I can't hold on. I can't hold on. I can't—_

With another lurch, Zuko was thrown free. He crashed down into the ice-cold water, flat on his face, with a splash.

In that first moment, Zuko's life was saved by the fact that he was literally too shocked to scream.

It was the cold. He hadn't been prepared for it, and it hit him at once, all over his body, rising up to embrace him, surrounding him. He had heard some firebenders say that water was a healing, gentle, soothing element. They were wrong. He had never known such pain could exist in his entire life. He had been intimately acquainted with the touch of fire, and this was a thousand times worse; the cold felt like it was tearing his flesh from his bones with bright, steel blades.

He tried to scream, but his muscles had locked up instantly from the shock; his body would not obey him. Later, he would realize that if he had been able to scream, he would have sucked down a lungful of water and drowned; but at that moment, all he registered was that he could not move, and that thought increased his panic. He tried to thrash, to struggle, to make for the surface, but to no avail; he was sinking down into the cold dark depths, receding further away from the brightness of the air that he could see above him. _I'm going to die._ It was a clear realization, very cold; it stood out in his mind in three dimensions. This was not a situation compatible with life. His vision was starting to dim. _I'm going to die. Right here…right now…_ His struggles were growing weaker. He tried to keep fighting, but his strength was rapidly ebbing.

Suddenly something caught his wrist in an iron grip, and what felt like a steel bar closed across his chest, trapping him in a vise-like hold. A powerful surge from beneath carried him toward the surface, but he could tell that he would not make it in time. His sight was fading. His strength was gone. His chest was crying for air. _Katara…Katara, I'm sorry…._

Darkness.


	6. Chapter 6

Sometime later, he opened his eyes. He was lying on his back, staring up at something gray; it took a moment for him to figure out that he was staring at the gray and overcast sky. The surface underneath him was rocking gently.

"What….what happened?" he mumbled. His voice was thick and somewhat slurred in his ears.

"You went in the drink, fire brat. After we _told_ you not to."

 _Artaq,_ he identified after a moment. The thought was distant, remote. Slowly, he turned his head to the side, searching with his eyes for the speaker. He caught sight of Artaq, sitting in the prow of the boat; he was still in the umiak, he realized. The realization was a foggy one. Artaq was glowering at him as if he were personally offended.

"Artaq, that's enough." Bato's voice. The older Water Tribe man leaned into his field of vision. He looked concerned, though the distance had not left his blue eyes. Zuko was foggily surprised: _Wow. In the Fire Nation, nobody would ever show that much concern…_. "Here. Can you sit up?"

Zuko tried, and realized that he was swathed in a mass of blankets. He was shivering uncontrollably. He struggled feebly, then hissed; a sharp pain went through his left arm, shooting into his side.

"My arm…."

"You must have broken it when you were thrown clear." Bato slipped one arm beneath his shoulders, raising him a little. He drew out a leather flask from within his parka and uncapped it. "You need to drink this. This is a Water Tribe medicine; it will warm you up. Being in the water for too long can be dangerous; it can lead to the cold sickness. You need to restore your heat as quickly as possible. If you have some way of heating yourself, firebender, now is the time to do it."

"Too…too cold." His teeth were chattering. The shivers ran through his body; he tried to raise his internal temperature, but couldn't summon the necessary concentration. There was nothing there to work with.

His left arm was useless, and his right hand was stiff and shaking; Bato had to press the flask into his hand and hold it there, practically raising it to his mouth to get him to drink. In the background, Zuko dimly saw Artaq glowering. Sokka was in the prow too, leaning against the side of the boat; he was also swathed in blankets. Zuko tried wearily to figure out why.

The liquid in Bato's flask was hot and steaming; he gulped half of it and then closed his eyes, gasping as the heat spread through him. A second gulp, then a third, and he began to feel a bit alive again. He pushed the flask away weakly, drawing a breath; he started to raise his core temperature as quickly as he dared. The energy drain made him light-headed.

"Sokka pulled you out, at great risk to himself," Bato told him now, gesturing. "Can you heat him as well, firebender?" Zuko looked back at Sokka, where he was huddled in blankets; he was also drinking from a flask, Zuko saw now. Sokka saw him looking and glowered at him. Unlike Zuko, he did not appear to be shivering.

"Don'…don' know how." He wrapped his right arm around himself. "Some firebenders can….I never learned."

"Very well. Then just concentrate on yourself."

Zuko lay back, his eyes closed, allowing the warmth to fill him. His arm was hurting badly, and his ribs felt as if they were cracked.

"Katara…." The image of soothing blue filled his mind: Katara's eyes; her gentle smile, filled with warm concern. "Katara…."

"We're taking you back to Katara," Bato told him quietly. "The hunt is over; the hunters are returning to shore. Sangok is bending us as fast as he can."

"I'm sorry I couldn't heal you." That was Sangok, Zuko opened his eyes a slit to see the other waterbender leaning over him, looking upset. "In the Northern Water Tribe, men only learn combat. They don't learn how to heal. Some men have the gift naturally without training, but not me."

Zuko closed his eyes again. "Katara…."

"Soon."

Something else tugged at his mind, another question he should be asking. What Bato had said earlier…. It struck him, and he tried to straighten, frowning. "The hunt….the whale…. What…"

The faces of all the Water Tribe men fell. Artaq looked flat-out furious, he saw, while Sokka's glare redoubled; Sangok bit his lip, looking unhappy. Only Bato was calm.

"It got away," Artaq said angrily. "Because of _you._ "

Sokka added, slightly less hostile. "Bato cut the line with the hatchet when you went overboard."

Artaq continued furiously, "If you had been Water Tribe, he would never have had to do it—Water Tribe men _understand_. They know about cold water survival and they know about the hunt, and how important it is. But because you're Fire Nation—"

"Artaq, I said that's _enough,_ " Bato reproved sharply. Artaq fell silent, steaming. "Don't worry about the hunt, Zuko," he told him. "Simply participating in it fulfills your requirement, and losing the whale will make no difference."

 _Losing the whale._ Zuko tried, but the fact had no emotional significance. He was just too cold and weak. He lay back, wanting Katara. He wondered what she would say when she saw him again, how she would react. It had only been a morning, but it felt like years. Would she cry, when she saw he had been injured?

Bato was continuing. "The other boats successfully took two whales with only two men injured; neither man was injured severely, and so far no one has died. This has been, by any standard, a very successful whale hunt, and an excellent opening for the season. Perhaps," he added, looking pointedly at Artaq, "having a firebender along has brought us luck."

Two other men had been injured. _That's what they call successful?_ The thought was remote, vague. The image of Katara was much stronger, and much more pleasant; he dimly imagined her embracing him, holding him close. _Water Tribe people are all crazy…_

"Katara…."

"Soon," Bato promised, his eyes distant. "Soon."

By the time the beach came in sight, Zuko felt a bit more like a human being. Bato had splinted his arm with one of the harpoons and some strips torn from a blanket; Zuko had heated himself to the point where the water steamed off his clothing, so he was dry again. He was still completely exhausted and he ached all over, and the pain in his arm and side chewed at him. He slumped against the side of the boat, trying to concentrate on Katara, too tired to think of anything else.

They were traveling slowly because the two largest umiaks were towing huge whale carcasses behind them, with the assistance of the fleet waterbenders; one umiak was also towing a kayak, whose occupant had been one of the two injured. Apparently the kayak had rolled, which was quite common and not of significance by itself, but its occupant had had difficulties straightening it and had wrenched his shoulder out of alignment.

A crowd awaited them as they drew up to the beach from which they had left—mostly women and children and the elderly. Zuko huddled in the prow, nursing his arm, while Bato and the others except Sangok jumped out and drew the boat up onto the frozen sand of the beach; Sangok remained in the craft, bending the water to help. A girl of about Aang's age approached Bato shyly as they came up to the beach, and the tall Water Tribe man ruffled her hair.

"Say thank you to my cousin Nessa," Bato told his crew, indicating the young girl. "The umiak is a woman's boat, as the kayak is a man's; it is my cousin's boat that we have been using today."

The other Water Tribe men all murmured appropriate words of thanks to the girl; Zuko was silent. His arm and side were aching, and he was not feeling particularly thankful at the moment. The girl's eyes fell on him and she paled and backed up behind Bato, clearly recognizing that he was not Water Tribe. Zuko fought down the urge to glare at her. His eyes swept the beach as he cradled his splinted arm. _Katara, where are you?_

He picked Hakoda's umiak out of the line of craft being drawn ashore, dark against the light sand and snow; the Water Chief himself was some distance away, talking to a small knot of people. One man, older with long gray hair in braids, had his arm in a sling much like Zuko's; the other was a somewhat younger heavyset man being supported by two comrades. Zuko saw that his entire lower leg was streaked with blood beneath a clumsy-looking bandage. The sight of the injury made Zuko quickly look away.

A trick of the wind brought Hakoda's words to his ears: "…but these were both avoidable. We were very lucky on this hunt, but we could have been more fortunate still. Marrat, you are an experienced kayaker. I know that you know the correct way to right yourself when you have rolled. Aqallit, your injury was the fault of carelessness in stowing the harpoons. They should have been secured in the prow, and for just this reason." He gestured at the man's leg. "Your injuries are not serious…but they could have been. Use more care in future. The two of you are excellent hunters, and strong warriors; our tribe cannot afford to lose you." The two hunters nodded.

"Yes, Chief," Marrat said, while Aqallit shrugged. "My own fault, Chief. Won't happen again."

"The Northern healers should be here shortly; go with them." Hakoda gestured them off. Zuko watched Aqallit and his comrades hop away with his useless, red-streaked leg dangling, leaving a trail of blood across the frozen sand, and shuddered. _**That's** not considered serious?_ The fatigue was starting to wear off now, to be replaced by a cold-eyed evaluation of just how much danger he had been in.

He had to be helped out of the boat; he could not climb out with his arm the way it was, and the pain in his ribs restricted his movement. Sokka and Bato helped him out, though Sokka looked resentful; Zuko, seeing that, shot him a glare. Artaq stood by, arms folded, smirking in the background. Zuko took pains to lean on Sokka much more heavily than he needed to. _Every little bit helps,_ he thought. The Water Tribe boy grunted under his weight, holding him up with difficulty. Zuko found he didn't care. _I could have died out there._ The realization was as chilling as the icy air; slowly it was starting to sink into his bones, opening a place inside him so cold that fire could not warm it.

 _I could easily have died out there for that stupid custom._ Again, he could see the whale breaching before them, towering up, high enough to block the sun; could feel the terrible pain of the icy water surrounding him, the fear, the sense of total and complete helplessness in the face of onrushing doom. His forehead was throbbing where he had banged it on the seat when the whale had started to run, and his neck ached from whiplash. He shivered again at the memory, closing his eyes to try and shake the images, but it didn't help.

He hadn't felt that small and powerless since….longer than he cared to remember. _Helpless._ He _hated_ that feeling, worse than anything; hated it, and the fear and shame that went with it. Not even his firebending would have helped him out there—that whale had been far too big for any single firebender to take it down. _These Water Tribe peasants are all crazy. Hunting **whales** in those little skin boats of theirs? It's suicide…_

"Zuko!"

His head came up at Katara's cry, and he turned to see his betrothed, running lightly toward them over the frozen sand. Just the sight of her warmed him, lifted his spirits immensely. Her bright blue eyes were wide, concern showing openly in her face; she had her water skin of bending water with her, though she hardly needed it in this environment, and was moving to uncork it as she ran. Her concern did his heart good. "Oh, Zuko, are you all right?"

"Is _he_ all right?" Sokka demanded.

Katara ignored Sokka, and it did Zuko's heart good to see that too. She came up to him and clasped him tightly in her arms; his left arm hurt, as did his side, but he didn't care. It felt so good to be in her embrace that he just let her.

She pushed him away, looking him over, and he saw that her eyes were too bright; she took in the splint on his arm and paled. Swiftly she drew some of her bending water from her pouch. "What happened?" she asked, taking his arm in hers; she ran her glowing hand along his arm, searching for the break. He drew in his breath as he felt the gentle warmth of her healing, soothing away the pain, then her hands unwrapping the bandages that had held his arm in place. "Are you all right?"

She was running her hand down his side now, attending to his injured ribs; he raised his arms to allow her. "Katara….I…." He fumbled for the words, not wanting to admit his incompetence to her. "I kind of…."

"He fell out of the boat," Artaq sneered. "Just about what I'd expect from a Fire Nation."

Zuko tensed angrily; he might have stepped forward, but Katara held him, and Bato said, "Artaq, for the last time. I will not tell you again." He looked at Katara. "We captured a whale, but your betrothed was thrown from the boat during the chase. Sokka rescued him."

"The whale got away," Artaq put in. He looked like he wanted to say a lot more, but a glance at Bato and he restrained himself. It didn't matter. The unspoken _Because of you_ came through loud and clear. Somehow the understanding in Katara's eyes made it worse. He'd wanted to make her _proud_ of him.

"At least you're okay," she murmured, lifting her hands from his side and allowing the water to fall away. "That's what's really important."

"I wish you'd been out there with me, Katara," he said without thinking. He drew a breath, then another one. His jaw tightened as he looked at Sangok. "Maybe if we'd had a _real_ waterbender with us, it wouldn't have happened."

The moment the words left his mouth, Zuko felt himself flush. _Well, it's true. If Katara had been out there…._ he argued with himself. Sangok bit his lip and looked down; Zuko had to admit it was good to see someone else looking flustered and upset. Katara's eyes went to Sangok, and she frowned. "Zuko, that's not a very nice thing to say."

"I don't care." He pushed her away. He could feel himself starting to tremble with reaction. His guts were a wretched stew of anger and fear both. _I could have died,_ he kept thinking. _I could have died—that whale could have fallen on us, Sokka might not have gotten to me in time, I could have hit the water wrong and broken my neck instead of my arm…_ "If—if Sangok hadn't been so _incompetent_ , if he'd been better at steering the boat—"

Sangok looked like he wanted to cry. Katara was staring at him, her brows drawing together in puzzlement; Bato turned toward him. "Young Sangok did an excellent job, Zuko," he said warningly. "He performed better than some much more experienced waterbenders I have hunted with—an accomplishment made even more impressive by the fact that it was his first hunt."

"Yeah," Sokka jumped in, looking at him in disgust. "Don't try and blame Sangok for the fact that you're a klutz."

"How would _you_ even know what a good waterbender looks like _anyway?_ " Artaq sneered.

"I know a bad one when I see one," Zuko snarled. He was shaking. He kept seeing the huge whale rising up out of the water, towering over the tiny craft. "Katara, if you'd seen this guy—"

"I _have_ seen him bend. Sangok was always an entirely competent student," she said, frowning at him.

"Yeah, well, not today he wasn't."

"Hey— _Lay off_ Sangok," Sokka said, scowling fiercely. "He did a great job."

" _Not good enough_."

"Well, listen to the—" Artaq paused and raised an eyebrow "—spoiled brat telling us Water Tribe people how to run our whale hunts. You sure must know an awful lot, huh?" He was bouncing his harpoon lightly in his hand.

Zuko looked at them all. Sokka was scowling, Artaq had lifted his harpoon and was grinning menacingly, and Bato was frowning in disapproval. _They're all against me._ His guts were quivering. He could feel his hands starting to heat up, and began, without thinking, to raise them into a firebending stance.

Then Katara came up beside him. She put a hand on his shoulder and pushed his hands down. "At least everyone is all right," she said, slipping her arms around his neck. She stretched up to kiss his cheek, then looked into his face intently. "Why don't you go back to Dad's and wait for me? I want to talk to Dad for a bit and see if there's any more healing that needs to be done."

Bato nodded. "Yes. That's probably a good idea. Artaq, Sangok, I see that your young women are here." He gestured to where two young Water Tribe girls were coming across the beach, a short, plump, cheerful-looking girl with her hair in two braids, and a taller, willowy elegant one wearing a white-fur-trimmed hood. "You should go and speak to their families. The flensing and butchering can be carried out without you."

"Yes, Bato," Artaq said sullenly. "Th-thank you, Bato," Sangok stammered. They went to their women, Sangok to the tall one, who smiled and kissed him, and Artaq to the shorter one. It was at a distance, but Zuko could see that Artaq had already launched into a dramatic retelling of their hunt, complete with hand gestures, which his female companion was applauding enthusiastically. He had hoped to be able to impress Katara that way. He glanced over his shoulder at her, and saw the concerned look in her eyes; he clenched his fists and turned away.

It seemed like a very long and cold walk back to Hakoda's house.

Iroh was sitting at the low ice table playing another round of pai-sho with Master Pakku when Zuko arrived, shivering, from the walk; he ducked through the entryway into the low, dome-shaped front room to see his uncle looking up expectantly. "Nephew!" Iroh greeted with a smile. "How did it go?"

Zuko took off his parka and dropped it, realizing at the same moment that he had left the tackle he had borrowed from Hakoda in the boat. _Much good it did me. Who cares. Sokka can bring it back, or Bato._ "It's over," he said shortly. "I'm cold. I want some tea."

"There was tea, but you missed it," Pakku told him. _Of course,_ Zuko thought. "You can ask Kanna for some more, but she's been buried in the kitchen all day cooking the whale hunt dinner—I don't know if she'll be in the mood to make any more." He paused, indicating the parka with one raised eyebrow. "Are you going to hang that up, young man? My wife has enough to do without picking up after lazy young men who can't pick up after themselves." Zuko tensed, gritting his teeth, then stopped and forced himself to do as Pakku had said, picking up his borrowed jacket from the floor and hanging it beside the entryway.

Iroh was looking at him closely. "Sit down and rest, young Zuko," the older firebender told him. "I have my burner right here. No need to disturb Kanna. I'll make a pot."

"What?" Pakku interrupted. "And leave our pai-sho game right in the middle of it?"

"It won't take long. I could use a cup of tea myself." Iroh was already setting up his burner and teapot; with a flick of the fingers, he lit it. "Besides," he told Pakku with a grin, "you're winning."

"Ahh, _now_ I see what the _real_ issue is…."

Zuko flung himself down on some cushions while Iroh's pot boiled, rubbing his temples with his fingers, trying to simmer down. He felt wrung out and shaky, exhausted and on edge both. Images from the hunt kept flickering in the back of his mind. The click of the pai-sho tiles as Iroh and Pakku went back to playing grated on his nerves. When Iroh gently put a cup of tea in his hands, patting him on the shoulder, he sipped at it gratefully.

He had just about finished the cup when footsteps sounded in the entryway; Sokka came through the door first, carrying two bundles, one over either shoulder. He leaned them up against the wall, took off his own parka, and turned to look at Zuko. "Hey, Zuko. Way to bring Dad's whaling gear back from the boat and not leave it for someone else to carry, man."

"Who cares," _Water peasant,_ Zuko added silently. He glared at Sokka. Sokka's eyes narrowed.

"Did you get a whale?" Pakku asked, raising a brow.

"Almost." Sokka said nothing more, but Zuko imagined that his voice was loaded with disgust. Zuko glowered at him. "Katara and Dad will be along in a bit with our shares," he continued, turning to Iroh and Pakku now. "Is there room in the cold box for them?"

"If there isn't, we'll expand it," Pakku said calmly. "You can go and ask Kanna."

"Yeah. Is Gran-Gran making the dinner?"

"She is."

"Great. Tell Dad his spare equipment's in the corner," Sokka added, indicating one of the bundles against the wall; he hoisted the other one to his shoulder and crossed the front room to the hallway to stow his own gear back in his room.

Katara and Hakoda entered a few minutes later, shouldering the hangings aside and talking animatedly with each other. Both of them were carrying large packages wrapped with crudely cut bloodstained hide, held carefully away from them to avoid staining their parkas.

"The bridal shares," Hakoda announced, beaming proudly. "Where is Sokka?"

"In his room, cleaning and caring for his whaling tackle, as a good hunter should," Pakku replied, with a dry glance at Zuko. Zuko dropped his eyes to avoid glaring back at the old man.

" _Sokka!"_

Sokka emerged from the passageway. "Hey, Dad—all _right!_ " he announced as Hakoda handed him the heavy package.

"Is the butchering over so soon?" Iroh asked, looking up from the board.

"No, it will continue for the rest of the day at least, and possibly through the night and into the next day. Then the drying and preserving will last the rest of the week, if not longer," Hakoda replied. "However, according to custom, marriage portions are cut first. Sokka, you will have to save yours until Suki arrives."

Katara added with a grimace, "I _suppose_ I should probably go back out there to help the other women." She made a face. "Here's your portion, Zuko." She laid the hide-wrapped package on the floor before him with a smile.

 _It's dripping,_ Zuko thought in disgust. It reeked of the sea. He tried to wrap his mind around the idea that he had risked his life for that dripping, stinking, hide-wrapped piece of flesh and couldn't do it. It seemed so completely insignificant.

He looked up at her. Katara was smiling at him, brightly happy. He knew he had to respond, but couldn't think of anything to say. "Thank you," was the best he could manage.

"Yours and Sokka's were cut from the whale Dad's crew took," she said proudly. "The elders say it was the biggest whale taken in the last ten seasons. Of course, three of those, no hunts were held, but still…."

"Coulda been us," Sokka muttered with resentment. Zuko's eyes jerked up to the other youth, but Sokka wasn't even looking at him.

"I know it is somewhat disappointing," Hakoda said, hearing him, "that your boat did not take a whale, Sokka, Zuko. However, this was only your first hunt. There is always next time—"

"There won't _be_ a next time."

Zuko hadn't meant to speak; but at Hakoda's mention of a "next" time, his anger flared. His outburst brought the entire room to a standstill. All the Water Tribe members turned to face him in surprise, and Iroh looked up from his pai-sho board with a frown. "Zuko," Iroh began carefully.

" _No,_ uncle. I _did_ it. I fulfilled their stupid custom. I'm not doing it again. _Ever._ " He could feel himself breathing hard. His hands were starting to heat up. All the fear he had been feeling over the course of the long hunt came crashing down on him and was suddenly transmuted to a sick, burning anger. He had been helpless out there. Far from land, surrounded by the opposite of his element—not even his firebending could have helped him. _And they think I'm going to do that **again**? Not a chance._ "I was crazy to go along with that ridiculous hunt the first time. Never again. No matter _what._ "

"Zuko…" Katara breathed, staring at him with wide eyes. The confusion and hurt he saw in her eyes both filled him with shame, and fueled his anger. Hakoda's face had set into an impassive mask of distance, Zuko saw, and Pakku had raised one sardonic eyebrow. _Who cares. They don't know. They don't understand—_ Sokka, on the other hand, looked flat-out furious.

"You take that back," Sokka demanded. "The whale hunt is one of the oldest and most important traditions of the Water Tribe. It is _not_ stupid!"

"A bunch of guys with sticks hunting a whale in a hide boat? Sounds pretty stupid to me," Zuko snarled back. He knew he was being unfair—he had seen himself how much courage and skill were needed for the hunt—but he didn't _want_ to be fair. _I could have died, and for **what?**_

"The only reason you think it's stupid is because you were so _lousy_ at it." Sokka put his hand on his machete. "Why don't you face up to it, instead of dumping all over something that you can't understand?"

"Oh, I understand it perfectly well," Zuko spat, climbing to his feet. "I understand that it's exactly the sort of _backward_ , _barbaric_ custom that I would expect from a bunch of ignorant _savages_ living in blocks of ice. If this is the best you Water peasants can come up with, no wonder you needed the Avatar to save you! In the Fire Nation all you _peons_ would be—"

" _Zuko!"_ Iroh's voice was sharper than he had ever heard it. The old firebender looked utterly scandalized.

Zuko ran out of breath and stopped, panting, sick with anger and frustration. The gazes of the others had formed into what felt like a single, unified stare of disapproval. Sokka looked madder than Zuko had ever seen him. Pakku's face showed sardonic amusement; Hakoda's look froze his guts. He didn't dare look at Katara.

"Young man." Hakoda's words held a lethal quietness. He loomed, as tall as Ozai had been, and when Zuko turned to face him, the expression on his face seemed the same. _He looks as if he's staring at something beneath contempt. Something not even worth spitting on. Just like Father._ Tendrils of smoke were starting to rise from Zuko's hands; he was shaking. "We have taken you into our house. We have shared food and shelter with you, and given you our hospitality. Think carefully—this is how you repay us?"

Zuko was breathing too quickly. He could not answer.

"Well, General Iroh," Pakku said with dry irony. "Your student, you say?"

" _Zuko."_ He had never thought Iroh could be so stern. "You will apologize. _Now._ "

Zuko's gaze swung to Iroh. The old firebender's features were set; he looked as uncompromising as iron. _He's—he's ashamed of me,_ Zuko realized.

Somehow that was enough to clear some of the smoke from Zuko's mind. He had never seen his uncle ashamed of him before. A hollow space had opened up inside him. Master Pakku was watching closely, and Zuko realized it was even worse than that—he'd shamed his uncle in front of one of his friends, no less.

He drew a careful breath, then another one, struggling to get a grip on himself; he was about to apologize when Sokka said, "See what I was telling you, Katara? This just goes to show I was right all along. You can take the brat out of the Fire Nation…."

The words were like fingernails on slate. "Apologize to these filthy, backward Water peasants?" he snarled. "No way!"

"Zuko." Iroh's voice was no longer stone; it was ice, as cold as the ice around them. "Go back to the ship. Wait there for me."

"Yes. I think that would be best." In Katara's father's eyes, Zuko saw a kind of wintry damnation.

"Oh, now, let's not be hasty," Pakku said, his voice thick with irony. "Your nephew is a charming young man, Iroh, and I would love to hear more of his observations of Water Tribe culture. Come on, young man. Do you have anything else to say? Let's hear it." He turned ice-blue eyes on Zuko, who felt their touch like a steel blade. "I'm entirely serious," he said coldly. "Please, continue. As much as you like. In fact, I _insist_."

Zuko felt danger emanating from the Water master, and suddenly realized that Iroh had gotten Pakku to accept him, and now he had shown the Water master up. He also had the realization that Pakku would be a very bad enemy to have. The smoke rising from his hands was starting to sting his eyes. He was casting about, trapped, for some way out of the situation, when Katara, who had been silent this whole time, suddenly spoke up.

"Ignorant, filthy savages," she said quietly. All attention suddenly focused on her. Her head was lowered, her face, shadowed, thoughtful. When she raised her eyes to Zuko's, the look in them made him want to sink through the floor. "So I g-guess that's….that's what you think of us."

Her voice trembled the slightest bit. The pain of fire, of cold, was nothing compared to the pain Zuko felt now. He was silent.

"Well," Katara continued, trying for a gallows smile. "I g-guess….it's for the best. That I know what you really think of us, anyway. Before—" She broke off, swallowing; tears trembled in her eyes. "And if that's what you think of—of the rest of us, then, uh…." She drew a breath. "Then I guess that's what you think of me too, huh?"

Her eyes searched his face. Zuko could not move. He could not speak. He would have cut off his arm to get her to stop looking at him like that. His blood was pounding in his ears. _Katara…please…Katara…._

She swallowed again, then set her jaw and nodded. "That's—that's what I thought." She turned her back on him. He watched those slender shoulders square, that spine straighten; she pushed her way through the entrance hangings. He heard her footsteps echoing down the tunnel as she left. She was gone. He'd lost her. _Gone._

The silence in her wake was deafening. Everyone was staring at him. Iroh, Pakku, Sokka, Hakoda. He couldn't decipher their expressions. It hurt to breathe. Zuko's head was ringing. His insides felt hollow. Now he moved, too late. His feet moved almost on their own, stepping over the stupid piece of meaningless whale flesh in front of him, carrying him toward the entryway. He could feel everyone's eyes boring into his back. His hand reached out; Zuko barely managed to dampen the fire before the drapes were pushed aside. The passage was long and narrow; he had to stoop. Even before he reached the door, he was calling for her.

" _Katara! Katara! Katara, wait, **please!**_ "


	7. Chapter 7

Katara heard Zuko calling her distantly, but did not respond. She didn't want to see him right now, or anyone. Swiftly, she moved over the frozen ground, warm in her parka and thick, fur-lined mukluks. Dad's house was on the edge of town, and she put the settlement to her back, heading into the low, snowy hills beyond. She put a rise behind her, and another one. Zuko's voice receded in the distance, below the edge of hearing; soon there was no sound but the wind, blowing lightly in her ears, her footsteps crunching on the snow crystals. The sky was overcast, which was a good thing; if it had been too light out, the sun on the snow would have blinded her without snow goggles.

 _Zuko doesn't really think that,_ she tried to tell herself. _Come on, Katara. You know that's not what he really thinks. He was just upset and scared. Sokka sure wasn't helping. He doesn't think that…_

But what if…what if he did?

 _Even if it's not what Zuko really thinks,_ she thought slowly, _it's almost certainly what everyone else in the Fire Nation thinks._ That was exactly what Zuko had sounded like back when they had first known him, when he had still been pursuing Aang. He had to have gotten those attitudes from somewhere, and she had seen enough other Fire Nation people to know that contemptuous attitudes toward the "Water peasants" and "Earth Kingdom barbarians" were pretty much the norm. _What's it going to be like when I'm surrounded by people who think like that?_

She stopped where she was, rubbing her head.

Zuko had not been having a good time here. He had said little, but she could tell that from watching him. He was out of his depth trying to deal with Water Tribe customs, and her father's disappointment and Sokka's veiled and not so veiled hostility hadn't been helping. _The whale hunt scared him. Did it ever…_ He had looked white as a ghost when she had seen him on the beach afterward, and had seized on her almost like a shipwrecked mariner seizing a piece of driftwood.

 _He shouldn't have gone out there,_ she realized. _He just didn't have the skills._ _I should have tried harder to talk him out of it._ But the defining trait of Zuko's character was the fact that he _never_ walked away from a challenge, no matter how hard; nor did he ever give up until he had been pounded flat into the pavement. _And sometimes not even then._

It was what she loved most about him.

The hard-packed snow crunched under her feet. Even as she walked, she was subconsciously taking note of the position of the sun, the locations of the tall mounds of snow that marked or hid the direction stones her people had put up as guideposts; one of the first things any Water Tribe child learned was how to navigate across the frozen wastes. _How to find the way home._ There was not a child born in her community who did not know that by the time he or she could walk.

Over the past couple of days, Katara had watched with growing unease as Zuko struggled with Water Tribe customs. _He's having this much trouble now, here, surrounded by people that are at least trying to accept him for my sake._ The Water Tribe didn't have anything like the elemental supremacy notions of the Fire Nation, and as complex as it was, she was willing to bet that Water Tribe marriage custom and ritual was orders of magnitude less complex than that surrounding the wedding and coronation of the Fire Lord. _So if in spite of that, he's having this much trouble here…what's it going to be like for me in the Fire Nation?_ Zuko had no family to cushion them, not anymore; even if he had, the only one who had ever cared for him was Iroh. _He's said that most or all of the Fire Nation hates him for killing his father and losing the war….won't that make them love me that much more?_

And there was another thing too, something she hadn't mentioned to Zuko or anyone, but that she had found herself thinking about a lot, more so now that they were back. _When we go to the Fire Nation….Zuko's going to be Fire Lord. He's going to have duties, responsibilities, to his people, that he will have to fulfill._ Which meant…

…that it was a one-way trip. _When we go to the Fire Nation, we're not coming back._

Katara stopped in the middle of a hollow of snow, a slight cup surrounded by white-covered hills. She was chewing her lip. The thought of herself, far from her home and her family—from her community—in an alien culture, surrounded by people who uniformly despised her as a savage barbarian for being Water Tribe, and being forced to live there for the rest of her life with no possibility of returning home, scared her. It scared her a lot. _The elders always said, the life of a Water Tribe man or woman is in their community. The community can endure anything._ How could she endure what she would most likely face on their return to the Fire Nation _without_ her community?

 _How can I stand never being able to see Dad or Sokka or Gran-Gran or Master Pakku again?_

She knew that if the situations had been reversed—if she had had to assume the role of Chief of the Water Tribe, and Zuko had had no title or position, no duty to perform, Zuko would almost certainly be willing to join her in the Water Tribe and never visit the Fire Nation again… _but Zuko has nothing to leave behind. He never had._ Being adopted into the Water Tribe as Chieftain's Husband would probably be a step up for him.

Tiny snowflakes were starting to drift down; Katara glanced up at the sky and saw that the cloud cover was getting thicker and darker, an ominous brooding dark gray toward the west, in the direction from which the wind was coming. She recognized it as a weather pattern she had known from her childhood—a snow flurry was on the way. They tended to be brief, but intense; while not especially dangerous, they could be uncomfortable, and if you tried to walk in them, you could easily find yourself stumbling around totally lost. _Might be a good idea to huddle up for a while_.

She had left her mother's half-moon ulu knife back at the igloo, but she didn't need to cut blocks of snow to make a shelter for herself; quickly she transmuted some snow to water, bent it up and around her into an igloo shape, and transmuted it back, not to ice, but to solid snow, leaving an air hole open at the top of the dome. Through it, she could see the sky darkening, and flurries beginning to fly. _Good fifteen minutes, half an hour at least._ Katara wrapped herself in her parka, sitting down to wait.

It seemed as if she hadn't been waiting for more than a few minutes when she heard a voice outside, calling. _Who could possibly be out in this weather?_

She listened a bit longer, and realized she couldn't make out the words, but she recognized who it was. _General Iroh!_ What on earth was Zuko's uncle doing out in the middle of the snowstorm?

 _If he gets lost…._ From what she had seen of Zuko's uncle, it seemed to be a truism that everyone liked Iroh; she herself had come to care for him quite a bit. If he got lost, he could easily wander so far out into the snow hills that he would never be seen again. Quickly she opened a door in her igloo, transmuting one section of it to water; she looked out into the flying snow. _Boy, it's almost a white-out already._

" _General Iroh! General Iroh!"_

After a moment came what sounded like an answering call. Katara listened carefully. _"Here! I'm over here!"_ she called back. Straining her eyes to peer through the blinding flurries, she thought she made out a vague, shadowy shape at a distance from her. If the snow had been liquid water, she could have sensed Iroh's presence and direction by feeling the way the water bent around his solid mass; but that was not an option. She took the next best thing—bending the snowflakes themselves to the sides and out of the way, as if she were drawing back a curtain. As she parted the snowflakes for a distance of perhaps fifty yards, she saw Iroh's form at the end of the space she had opened. The old firebender was wearing a sealskin cloak over his Fire Nation armor, as well as Water Tribe mittens.

" _Katara!"_ he called, seeing her. "Am I glad to see you!"

"Come inside," she said, gesturing to her igloo. "You shouldn't be out in this weather. It's too easy to get lost."

"You really can't see anything out here."

"No, not when the snow is flying. The flurry shouldn't last long, but you can get yourself completely turned around in a really short time. People from the village have gotten lost in flurries and not been found until days later." She didn't mention that they had also not been found alive.

She stood aside to let the firebender enter the small igloo she had built. "Quite cramped in here," Iroh observed, squeezing through the door.

"You're supposed to make them small enough so that they can be warmed by body heat," Katara explained. "But now that there are two of us—"

"I can heat it, if you enlarge it," the firebender offered, smiling.

Katara smiled back at him. "It won't take much." She quickly turned one wall completely to water, holding it in shape and pushing out the boundary out enough so that they both could sit comfortably; then she raised it up over their heads again, refreezing it into a new dome. The snow was spitting in through the air hole she had left. "Just a single flare should do it."

Iroh snapped a flare alight in the palm of his hand, warming and lighting the inside of the ice dwelling. The light cast a cheery glow over the snowy interior walls. "Amazing," he murmured, feeling the walls of the construction. "Truly remarkable work, young Katara. I am impressed."

"Thank you," Katara said, feeling herself redden with pleasure. She was rather proud of it herself, though she hadn't said so; it had taken her a while to learn how to change water to snow specifically rather than to ice, and she still thought it was a rather neat trick.

"It is said that water is the most versatile of all elements," Iroh murmured, still examining the construction. "That certainly appears to be true!"

"It's not as useful when you get away from the poles," Katara said modestly. _Though Hue's lessons on plant-bending showed me that water has more uses than I had thought…_ "Seal jerky?" she asked, reaching inside her parka and pulling out a packet. "I freeze-dried it myself."

"Thank you," Iroh replied, accepting the strip of jerky cheerfully. "I do so love Water Tribe cuisine, and I so rarely have a chance to indulge in it."

"What brings you out here?" Katara asked, then frowned in concern. "You really shouldn't have come out here away from the village, General Iroh," she scolded gently. "The weather is harsh and it can be dangerous for those who are not used to it."

"I know," he agreed, smiling. "I am really too old for these shenanigans. Nevertheless, I came out here with your father to look for young Zuko."

"Zuko?" Katara straightened. "You mean Zuko's out here too?"

"Yes, he went after you."

"I have to find him. He could be in trouble—" She started to stand, but Iroh waved her back down.

"I am sure you do not need to be concerned, young Katara. Your father is out here as well, and I am sure Hakoda will have found him. It is nearly white outside," he added, gesturing to the air hole, where the snow had fused into a blinding wall of white. "If you go out into that, you might only end up being lost yourself."

"I….guess so." Katara sat back down unhappily. Still, she knew Iroh was right. It was another lesson that all Water Tribe children learned—if there was nothing you could realistically do to help, to avoid wasting energy on tasks that would only make the situation worse. _I'm sure Dad has found him._ What her father would have to say to her betrothed, on the other hand, she could not guess.

Iroh looked at her closely, settling back against the wall behind him. "You know, Katara," he told her gently, "young Zuko cares for you very much. He would never want to do anything to hurt you or to offer you insult. He was…very much out of his depth today out on the whale hunt, I think. Not that that makes his behavior acceptable. But I suspect that it led him to say things he did not mean, and that he now regrets a great deal."

Katara pondered what he had said for a moment, then let out a long sigh. "I know," she murmured, staring at the ground. "When I met him down by the beach, he was as pale as—as, well, that." She pointed upward at the blank whiteness outside the air hole. But even if he didn't mean to say it….maybe he thinks it." She swallowed unhappily.

"I have known young Zuko for many years, Katara," Iroh told her, still gentle. "I know him even better than you," he added with a smile. "At his core, he is a fundamentally honest person. One of the consequences of that honesty is that he cannot deny to himself a truth when he sees it—such as the truth that fire is not the 'superior' element, and that the Water Tribe are not 'savage,' merely different. He has learned much about the world and about the other elements, traveling with you and with Toph and with the Avatar, and he has grown a great deal. I know, for I have watched him, as I have watched you and the rest of the Avatar's friends also learn and grow. What he said came from his past. It does not represent his present, nor his future."

Katara slowly nodded. "But the Fire Nation is his past," she said quietly, "and we'll be returning there soon. And in the Fire Nation, everyone still thinks that way, don't they?"

"Ahhh," Iroh murmured, looking at her. "And this worries you, young Katara?"

"Yes," Katara admitted hesitantly. "I've….kinda been thinking about it a lot since I got back here, and..." She drew a long breath. "It scares me," she finished. "I mean….looking at the problems Zuko has been having fitting in with my family, I can just imagine everything's going to be that much worse when we get back to his home."

"The Fire Nation is not his home," Iroh murmured. "I'm not so sure it ever was. He only thought it was."

"Maybe it's not his home, but it's his culture and his world. It's not mine."

Iroh was silent for a long time, in thought. The fire in his hand danced and shimmered yellow light off the crystalline snow walls of their small shelter; it was growing uncomfortably warm, and Katara unfastened her heavy parka a bit. "You are right to be worried, young Katara," Iroh said at last, gravely. His golden eyes glimmered in the firelight. "You are correct that it will be very difficult—more difficult certainly than it would be if you and Zuko remained here. You will not be asked to go whaling like young Zuko—but there are other perils, much more subtle, yet just as deadly. However….it _might_ not be as bad as you think."

Katara frowned, and the old firebender smiled, seeing her confusion. "You are an intelligent girl, young Katara, and I will not lie to you. The Fire Nation has spent a good long time telling itself that fire is the superior element, and that the sons and daughters of fire are the superior race. I was able to overcome that with experience, as I acquired a deeper knowledge and admiration of the other elements; young Zuko has fought a ferocious battle with himself to do the same. However, many in the Fire Nation will not be willing to make that effort—especially now, after they have been defeated by the Avatar, and the warriors of the Earth Kingdom and Water Tribe.

"As the fundamental flaw of the Earth Kingdom is stubbornness, that of the ancient Air Nomads was frivolity, and that of the Water Tribe is instability, the flaw of the Fire Nation is pride. And now, after the defeat, that pride walks hand in hand with shame. The pride of the Fire Nation nobility has been injured, and they are smarting with the blow. Many of them will see your assuming the role of Fire Lady as an insult. The idea that a Water peasant should sit at the head of the Fire Nation will seem as almost a sacrilege to many. Be not mistaken: you will encounter a great deal of hostility, even hatred."

Iroh paused, and closed his eyes briefly, rubbing his forehead with his free hand. "In addition, young Katara, there will be those in the Fire Nation that will see young Zuko as illegitimate, as an undeserving Fire Lord who has no right to assume the throne, and no real justification for wielding power."

"Because he was banished," Katara nodded. "That's what he told me. We've talked about this a couple times."

"Have you?" Iroh asked, raising an eyebrow. "Young Zuko has part of the reason, but not the whole reason." He sighed. "As usual with him. Remind me to have this same chat with him before we return to the Fire Nation. Yes, some of the nobility will see Zuko as illegitimate because he was banished. However…." He trailed off.

"What?" Katara asked, looking at him.

"As I'm sure you know, after Lord Ozai fell, the Earth Kingdom and Northern Water Tribe both landed soldiers on Fire Nation shores, to keep the peace." He sighed again. "These foreign troops on Fire Nation soil are resented by many. In this context, many will see Zuko as a figurehead at best. At worst, he will be seen as a puppet, or a pawn of outside forces. Particularly any moves he makes toward reconciliation with the other nations."

"But—but that's not fair," Katara insisted, sitting up. "Zuko wants what's best for the Fire Nation. We agree that the Fire Nation should stop fighting—"

"Yes, that is what _you_ think," Iroh told her, "but that goes against the wishes of a great many of the Fire Nation. Combined with the fact that Fire Lord Ozai intended Azula to be his successor, many will see Zuko as a humiliation—a banished, disgraced, incompetent prince foisted on them because he would be easy to control." He raised an eyebrow. "His marriage to a Water Tribe woman will not help. You will be accused of controlling Zuko, of being the real power behind the throne. And…." Iroh paused, looking very serious now. "There are almost certainly those in the Water Tribe or Earth Kingdom who will think the same of Zuko as his own countrymen—that he is weak and that he will be easily manipulated. You have spoken to me of General Fong, head of the Earth Kingdom forces. I know him myself. He is certainly one, but there will be others."

Katara was silent. The chill in her heart was spreading throughout her body. The picture Iroh painted for her was so bleak, so desolate that Katara could only think, _It's hopeless. We're never going to be able to make it work. Why did we ever think we could?_ Iroh watched her for a little bit more; then his face softened.

"I don't mean to scare you, young Katara," he told her gently, "only to make you understand what you face. I may exaggerate a bit; things are perhaps not quite as bad as I have made out."

"No?" she asked, looking at him hopefully.

"I will tell you a secret about the Fire Nation," Iroh continued, smiling slightly, if not with particular warmth. "There is a saying about my people that I heard in the Earth Kingdom that is not so far wrong: that the children of fire are either at your throat or at your feet. And between the Avatar and the combined forces of the Earth Kingdom and Water Tribe, the Fire Nation has been handed a resounding defeat—at what should have been the moment of their greatest triumph."

For the first time, Katara wondered what the old firebender thought of the fate of his nation; she decided against asking him that. She wasn't sure she wanted to know the answer; instead she folded her hands in her lap and listened quietly.

"While this has created great hostility, there will be those in the Fire Nation who will see this as the will of the balance, reasserting itself and punishing them for their arrogance. This is especially because the Avatar was involved. They will feel it is their duty to swear their fealty toward Zuko and to bend their energies toward expiating their shame through toil and sacrifice. There will also be those who feel that since the Earth Kingdom and Water Tribe have clearly proved their superiority over the Fire Nation, further resistance is pointless and dishonorable; all that remains is to accept the fact and bow to greater strength. I suspect that many of the older and wiser ones will see this as the course of action to take, and they should be able to exert a considerable influence on public sentiment.

"The Fire Nation," he added, raising an eyebrow at her, "respects nothing so much as strength. And you are very strong. If you show your strength, if you demonstrate that you are stronger than those who oppose you, and if you do so consistently and for long enough….my people will come to accept you. They may not like you, but they will accept you."

"You think so?" she asked hesitantly.

"Yes," Iroh reassured her. "It will not be easy, but you will manage." He paused. "You are Water Tribe, after all. Is not the essence of the Water Tribe the ability to adapt to new situations? That is how your people survive through any crisis. I have watched you, young Katara, and you truly embody the spirit of your people; you will adapt to this as well."

"But the strength of the Water Tribe is in their community," she said quietly. "I will be cut off from mine."

Iroh regarded her. "Less than you might think, young Katara," he told her. "Aang and Toph will certainly visit you and my nephew, and I would not be surprised if Sokka and his Kyoshi warrior visit as well. And," he added, "when you and Zuko return to the Fire Nation, it will be necessary for you both to work closely with the leaders of the other national presences there. The Fire Nation will need someone to speak for their interests to the Water Tribe and vice versa. It would not surprise me," he told her, "if it turned out that of all the people in the Fire Nation capital, you were the one best suited to do so—not only as the Fire Lady, but as the daughter of Chief Hakoda and the favored student of Master Pakku. So you see, you may not be so very isolated after all."

Katara stared at Iroh in the light of the fire he held in the palm of his hand; it had grown warm inside the ice shelter, and Iroh lowered the flame a little. His eyes were filled with kindness. _How did you get to be so generous?_ She had no idea what he thought of the defeat of the Fire Nation, but whatever it was, it wasn't enough to stop him from volunteering that fact to calm her fears. She was suddenly filled with a rush of gratitude toward the old firebender; impulsively, she put her hands together and offered a seated bow.

"Thank you," she said with great sincerity. "Thank you, General Iroh."

"Call me uncle," he told her, smiling. "I will be soon enough."

"Uncle Iroh," she replied with a small giggle. _It sounds strange to hear myself say that,_ she thought.

"So tell me, young Katara, if I may ask you," Iroh said, settling back against the ice wall with a sigh of contentment. "You are certainly willing to undergo a great deal for my nephew. I know how Zuko feels about you, but what is it that makes you willing to endure this for him?"

"I love him," Katara answered simply.

"Yes, but….why?"

"Are you saying I _shouldn't_ love him?" She was surprised at the strong rush of protectiveness that came over her. Iroh, seeing her bristle, began to chuckle.

"No, no," he assured her, still laughing. "Not at all. But I am curious. After all," he added with a grin, "the wedding of a fine Water Tribe lady such as yourself to the Fire Lord is something that does not happen every day. I am aware that my nephew is a fine young man, if a bit prickly at times, and he is surely a handsome youth, but there are many handsome, upstanding Water Tribe men that you could have chosen. And I cannot be sure, but I thought Aang had a crush on you for a while himself. Why Zuko?"

 _Why indeed…._ Katara sighed, looking down at her hands. She thought for a while, trying to find the right words to express one of the most complex emotions she had ever felt in her life. Iroh waited patiently, the yellow light from the fire in his hand flickering over the icy interior; by now the walls were starting to become shiny with moisture. She turned the matter over in her thoughts, trying to think of how she could show Iroh what she felt.

"Do you remember…." she began hesitantly.

The old firebender said nothing, but raised an eyebrow.

"It was the very first time we ran into you. Or I guess you ran into us. We were there to rescue Aang from your ship, but by the time we got there he had already broken out. Aang went over the side, and I thought he wasn't going to make it, but then he went into the Avatar state…." She paused, biting her lip. "You've probably noticed, but when Aang's in the Avatar state, he can be….really scary."

"I've noticed," Iroh said, nodding.

"Aang came surging up out of the sea on this massive pillar of water, bent it around and just cleared the deck of the boat with this incredible shockwave, I'd never seen anything like it. He knocked everyone overboard, and I thought we were home free, but then Sokka went to get Aang's staff from the side, and….." She couldn't suppress a smile. "There was Zuko, hanging onto the other end. Somehow he'd managed to catch a grip on the way over the side and just hung on for everything he was worth. So Sokka gave him a shove and pushes him over, but somehow, by a one-in-a-million chance, Zuko grabs the _anchor chain_ on the way down and starts dragging himself back up, hand over hand." She shook her head, laughing in bemusement. "I saw that, and I thought, 'Oh man, we're never gonna stop this guy.'"

"That's my nephew." Iroh nodded wryly.

"Yeah, it was pretty impressive," Katara agreed. She was silent for a moment, remembering. "Just the fact that he kept chasing Aang, after seeing him in the Avatar state—after really seeing what he could do…..Even after the North Pole, when…." Katara trailed off. Seeing Aang begin to glow and then to manifest as the massive, hundred-foot-tall embodiment of La, the Ocean God—the way he had effortlessly destroyed the Fire Nation navy….She knew Aang, and cared about him, but that had given her serious pause. _I'd seen him in the Avatar state before, but **that** …That was when I really started to realize he was a **lot** more than just a funny little kid, and that some of what he was was pretty frightening._ "Even then," she continued, recalling Iroh's presence with a start. "Zuko kept chasing him even then, after….If that had been me," she said quietly, "I would have decided right that minute that Aang was out of my league, turned in my tracks, and gone running back home as fast as my legs could carry me. But Zuko kept coming."

"Without the Avatar, Zuko _could_ not go home," Iroh murmured.

"Yeah." Katara sighed. After a moment, she said what had been rolling around in her mind since she had heard the story from Iroh about Zuko's Agni Kai and his banishment. Zuko had not told her when she had asked. "I don't want to talk about it," he had said fiercely the first time she had asked, and repeated gentle prodding had only gotten from him a mumbled, "Go and ask Uncle." Even when she had asked him, over three years after the fact, the memory had been so painful for him that he could not bring himself to speak of it.

"His father didn't ever intend for him to find the Avatar, did he?" she said now. "It was just an especially cruel way of saying 'never.'"

"Yes." Iroh nodded, and a strange respect flickered in the old man's golden eyes. "You are perceptive, young Katara. It took Zuko a long time to figure that out. Though he may have realized earlier, and simply not permitted himself to know. I know I tried to get him to see. Several times, I told him his father had set him an impossible task."

"And yet Zuko decided he was going to do it anyway." Katara couldn't suppress a smile. "That's so him," she said with a sigh. "That's basically it, right there. For sheer guts, determination, persistence, courage, heart—I can't think of anyone else I've ever met who even comes close. Maybe Aang," she added on reflection. "But yeah. He'llkeep on going, even though the entire world is against him."

"You have a very high opinion of my nephew." Iroh's eyes sparkled with humor.

Katara raised one brow. "And I haven't even started talking about his sense of honor and duty yet." She smiled. "Or how sweet he can be. He wrote me a haiku once."

"My nephew, writing poetry? _That_ doesn't sound like him."

"Well….he said it wasn't very good. But I loved it anyway."

"I can see." Iroh paused. When he spoke again, he was serious. "You realize," he told her, "that my nephew does not see himself as you do?"

"I know." Katara nodded. "He sees himself as worthless and a failure. Even now." She bit her lip. "Sometimes it scares me," she confessed. "The way he sees himself—it seems like it's just so far off from reality. I try to tell him sometimes, but….It's like, he can't even hear me. It's like he's listening to something else instead…."

"His father." Iroh was grim.

"His father." Katara agreed. "Let me tell you," she added with quiet intensity. "There are days that I wish Ozai was still alive, so that I could get my hands on him and wring his neck for what he did to Zuko." Her jaw set defiantly as she looked at Iroh, daring the old firebender to argue with her. He only nodded thoughtfully.

"I don't blame you. But what he did to Azula was worse."

"What did he do to Azula?"

"He took a talented little girl who wanted nothing more in life than to please her father, and he turned her into a monster. Maybe it's partly my fault for not trying harder to prevent it…." Iroh shook his head. "Never mind. It's over and done with now."

"When we were little," Katara said after a time, "us Water Tribe kids used to scare each other by telling stories about how in the Fire Nation, parents ate their young…."

Iroh chuckled quietly. "Not all of us, Katara. Not all of us." He glanced up at the air hole. "And will you look at that," he said happily. "It looks as if the flurry has died down."

Katara looked upward too at the roof of the igloo. She could see a slice of the sky from her vantage point; the white blank wall of snow was gone and the sky was a pale, translucent blue. "You're right," she said, refastening her parka over her inner tunic. With a push, she straightened from the ground, stretching to work the stiffness out of her joints, then opened one side of the door in the igloo with a bending gesture; the ice slumped into water which Katara pushed out of the way. Outside, the ground glistened white and bright with the freshly fallen snow in the sunshine. "Shall we go back to town?"

"Certainly." Iroh closed his hand, dismissing the flame he had called up; he tried to straighten, and gave a groan. "Can you give me a hand, young Katara? I am not as spry as I used to be."

"Of course." Katara helped haul Iroh to his feet, and supported him as they stepped over the threshold, from the warm interior of the ice shelter, into the crisp, glassy air outside.


	8. Chapter 8

Within fifteen minutes after leaving Hakoda's house, Zuko was lost.

He had run out the door after Katara, calling for her. She had not been there. Zuko had been so desperate to find her that he had not paid attention to where he was going. Hakoda's house was right on the edge of town; Zuko had unthinkingly gone toward the empty wastes beyond. Now as he stopped to rest, bracing his hands on his knees and panting in exhaustion, Zuko realized he had no idea where he was. He had completely lost Katara—he could not see any sign of her anywhere, not even her footprints. Worse than that, he had lost the town as well.

He straightened up, turning to look around him. Featureless snow hills surrounded him in all directions, low white-covered rises that all looked exactly the same. The cold in the air was chewing at him, and he was already tired from the hunt earlier; he was shivering. He had left the parka Hakoda had given him hanging in the entryway; he was only dressed in his thin Fire Nation clothing. _I can't find Katara, and I can't stay out here any longer._ How was he ever going to get back?

 _Even assuming they will **take** me back…_

He pushed that thought roughly out of his head. _It doesn't matter. I can't think of that right now. If…if Hakoda won't let me back in…I'll go back to my cabin in the ship._ Just the thought of Hakoda standing in the entryway of his igloo and denying Zuko entrance was enough to make him tremble, but he pushed the image down. He had to get out of the cold.

He drew a breath, running through one of Iroh's meditation exercises. _Focus. Center yourself. Don't panic,_ he told himself roughly. _Think._ He turned his eyes to the trail he had left behind him as he had crunched through the deep snow. _You can follow your own footsteps back._ **_Move._** He gave himself a rough mental shake and began to retrace his tracks, one step to the next, always looking ahead in hopes of seeing the round snow houses of the Water Tribe reappear.

He had been walking for only a few moments when the tentative snowflakes that had been softly drifting down began to fall more heavily. The wind was picking up, whipping his new topknot about his head, lashing his shoulders and the back of his neck with the end of his ponytail. Zuko pressed on grimly, as the snow came thicker and thicker, hoping to walk out of it; the wind drove the flakes into his face, choking him and stinging his eyes. _I have to keep going._ The trail he had made was filling up before his eyes, the deep footprints being leveled out to minor depressions in the surface before him. As the snowfall grew heavier, his line of sight closed in, to fifty feet, then ten, then five; it was as if a curtain of snow was being drawn around him, closer and closer, caging him in. He couldn't believe how fast this flurry had come up. Snow caked thickly on his garments, melting through his clothing.

His foot caught in something and he almost fell, regaining his balance at the last moment; he stumbled to a standstill, and realized that if he extended his arm to its full length and held out his hand, he literally could not see his hand in front of his face. It was lost behind a whirling wall of white. He was never going to find his way back to the village through this.

 _Lost_. He was lost in a blinding blizzard that for all he knew could last for days, in the bitter cold, far from Hakoda's village, and the trail that was his only means of finding his way back was being destroyed as he watched. The cold was unbelievable. He had no food, no water, no shelter, no warm clothing, no fuel, and he was already weakened physically and mentally from the strains of the day; raising his internal temperature would only deplete his energy further and hasten the inevitable end. Anyone who was looking for him would have to make it through this blizzard, and he couldn't imagine Hakoda would want to send people out to find him after what he had said earlier.

At that point, Zuko did something he had almost never done in his life: He gave up. He had hit a sensation of dead stop, of total paralysis; through the fatigue and despair clouding his mind, all he could think was that he had screwed up _again_ and this time it would kill him. It was not even possible for him to consider alternatives; in his exhausted mind there were none, or if there were, he was not familiar enough with the environment to know what they were. After the whale hunt, after the argument and the confrontation earlier, he had no resources left to deal with this unfamiliar situation. As if in a dream, he sat down where he was, drew his legs up in front of him, wrapped his arms around himself and laid his head on his knees. He heated himself to a comfortable level, thought of Katara, and waited for the end.

He was still waiting ten minutes later, when the flurry died away to nothing and Hakoda came crunching over the snow dunes, carrying a heavy tiger-sealskin cloak over his shoulder.

Zuko heard him coming, but couldn't make himself look up; he sat there, staring at the ground between his feet. He was covered with snow, and it was melting; his hair was soaked and dripping into his eyes, and there was a bare patch of rock cleared from the snow around him. He listened to Hakoda's footsteps come closer and closer, until they halted right before him; he could see the Water Tribe man's fur-trimmed mukluks. The sun was out; it glittered off the fresh snow surface.

"Zuko."

It was a command, and Zuko dared not disobey. Slowly, trembling, he raised his scarred face to the Water Tribe man who stood looking down on him, towering over him. Again, he saw that Katara's father was as tall as his own father had been, and as massively built; with the sun behind him, Hakoda's face was thrown into shadow and for a confused, fearful moment Zuko could not remember whether it was Hakoda or Ozai before him. He felt like a tiny mouse cowering between the paws of a cave lion, and could not keep himself from flinching.

"Here."

Instead of lashing out at him with a blast of flame, Hakoda tossed him the cloak he was carrying over his shoulder. Zuko shied away instinctively instead of trying to catch it and it landed on his head, burying him beneath swaths of fur. He clumsily freed himself from its encumbering folds, pulling it around him as best he could. It was thick and warm, the fur luxuriant. His hands were stiff and sore and he could not work the unfamiliar bone clasp; he fumbled at it uselessly.

Hakoda saw that, and knelt beside him in the snow. Zuko tried to pull away, but all the other man did was fasten the cloak around him. Hakoda's face was utterly expressionless as he did this; Zuko watched him distrustfully. The older man pulled the cloak into place, then stood up. He gazed down at the young prince for a moment, then gave a tiny sigh.

"Come with me." He held out his hand. After a moment, Zuko took it and let himself be pulled to his feet. Hakoda turned and started off toward one of the featureless snow hills; Zuko gulped, then followed him. What choice did he have?

The walk back to town was largely a silent one. Katara's father strode ahead, his steps sure and determined; Zuko trailed at his heels like a cold and miserable shadow. The Water Tribe man glanced back once or twice to make sure he was still following; other than that, he said little, and Zuko was not inclined to try and make conversation. The sound of their footsteps were loud in the silent air.

Once Hakoda diverted toward a small, strangely-shaped pile of snow.

"If you get lost out here again, look for these stones." Hakoda brushed at the snow; it fell away to reveal a cairn of crudely-shaped rocks underneath, about shoulder high. "See the crosspiece here: the larger end points toward the village."

"I see." Zuko swallowed again. "Sir, about—about what I said—"

Hakoda waved him to silence. He started off again, and Zuko followed.

A short time later, Zuko saw the walls of the village come into sight, and the familiar low outline of Hakoda's igloo; he had not been that far from shelter after all, if only he had known how to find his way back. A few other Water Tribe men and women were out about their business, clearing the snow from their yards and igloos; Hakoda nodded to them and received nods back. He nudged Zuko, who bowed his head and mumbled a few words of greeting; the men and women nodded back to him also.

The front room was empty when Hakoda led him through the long entryway, and Zuko was wretchedly glad; he didn't want to see anyone else right then. Hakoda gestured him to stay put. "Wait here," he said, and then passed through the low arch to the kitchen. Zuko waited apprehensively as he heard Hakoda moving things around in the other room; he wondered when the Water Tribe man was going to let him have it. _At least I have a chance to warm up again…._ He wrapped his arms around himself, drawing the seal cloak tight, trying not to think about anything.

After a moment, Hakoda came back, carrying a small lidded bucket in one hand; in the other, he had a leather flask similar to the one Bato had given him after he had been pulled out of the ocean. He handed the flask to Zuko, then motioned him to follow. Zuko paused to take a swallow of the steaming, bitter liquid, marshalling his resources, and then did so. His heart felt like lead.

Hakoda led him outside and around to the back; the igloo and all the boats back there had been covered with a thick layer of snow. He set the bucket down, and Zuko stepped back uneasily, but Hakoda only took off the lid; the bucket was full of what looked like seal fat. Zuko looked uncertainly at the Water Tribe man.

"The boats need to be greased and then put on top of the igloo," Hakoda explained. "Help me."

"Yes, sir."

Working together, first they brushed the snow from the line of boats. Hakoda pulled the first one down from the wall, a round coracle, and turned it upside down; he showed Zuko silently how to undo the special knots that held it tied to the frame in place. As they knelt side-by-side to apply the seal fat, working it into the hide with split lengths of bone, Hakoda said, "I owe you an apology."

"Wh—what?"

Startled, Zuko raised his head. Katara's father glanced at him, those blue eyes still distant; his expression was unreadable. Zuko was baffled. "I don't understand."

"I spoke to Bato and to Sokka," Hakoda told him, "about what happened out there."

"Out—you mean on the—"

"I made a serious error in judgement," Hakoda continued. "Among our people, the skills and knowledge necessary for the whale hunt are acquired by every Water Tribe man simply as a matter of course. There is not a boy born to our tribe who has not begun hearing about the great whale hunts by the time he can speak—who has not begun learning how to hunt by the time he can walk. I did not fully understand how little you knew." He faced Zuko solemnly. "I had no idea how unprepared you were for the hunt. If I had known, I would never have asked you to participate. However, that is not an excuse. It is the responsibility of the chief to look after the safety of all his hunters, and I should have made sure you were fully competent before you came anywhere near the ocean. It was an unforgiveable lapse on my part."

 _Zuko can't._ His shoulders tightened. "I _wanted_ to go on the hunt. Sir."

"I remember." Hakoda paused. "Nevertheless, I did you wrong, and placed you in a situation I had no right to. I can only offer my most profound apologies." He put his hands together and offered a small bow.

Zuko stared at him, taken aback. This was so far away from anything he had been expecting to hear that he was at a loss to deal with it. After a moment, he returned the bow, fumbling, "Thank you. I mean—I accept."

Hakoda only nodded. He bent over the boat again, smoothing the grease into the hide shell. Zuko imitated him. After a silence, the Water Tribe man spoke again. "To be honest, since Bato told me about the hunt, I have been curious as to why you agreed to go along."

 _Why, indeed._ Zuko was surprised at Hakoda's question as well; he had not thought the Water Tribe man would care. He gave a heavy sigh. "It was a stupid reason," he found himself saying.

"Oh?" Hakoda glanced at him sidelong, then returned his gaze to the skin of the coracle.

Zuko stared down at his hands. "I wanted….I wanted to make Katara proud of me," he heard himself saying. "I wanted her to have a husband who didn't shame her in the eyes of her people. Who could…could do the things a Water Tribe man is supposed to do." He paused. "I guess I screwed _that_ one up, huh?" he added bitterly.

Hakoda said nothing, but to Zuko's amazement, some of the distance faded from his eyes, to be replaced by an unaccustomed warmth. He reached out and gave Zuko a brief squeeze on the shoulder.

"Perhaps not as badly as you think."

Somehow, that made him feel worse. He drew a breath, taking his courage in his hands. "Sir, I—"

Hakoda looked at him.

"I'm sorry," he managed in a rush. "I'm sorry about what I said earlier. I can't ask you to forgive me. I acted like a jerk and—" He paused, trying to come up with something to add, then gave up. Anything else he said would only soften it; best to let it stand as it was. "I'm sorry."

Hakoda studied him. "You were very frightened on the whale hunt today, I think."

After a moment, Zuko nodded. "Yeah." He hung his head.

The Water Tribe man turned back to the boat, but continued to speak. "In many ways," he said, "the whale hunt draws upon the qualities that best represent Water Tribe culture: strength of community in the bonds among the hunters, courage in the face of immense danger, willingness to risk one's own life for the good of one's people, the ability to think very quickly and to react in the face of a rapidly changing situation, and the ability to survive in an incredibly harsh environment."

Zuko was silent, keeping his eyes on his work. The length of bone he was using was somewhat cracked and splintered; he had to be careful that the end didn't snag on the boat.

"Whale hunts are crucial to our people," he heard the Water Tribe man say. His voice was calm, oddly gentle; it reminded Zuko vaguely of Iroh's voice. "There is little that grows here naturally; we do not even have the great elk yak runs as our cousins do at the North Pole. Most of our diet—in fact, most of our subsistence—comes from the sea. We are, after all, Water Tribe. Without the whale hunts, and the meat and blubber they provide, we could not survive. Though many hunters feel fear, they hunt anyway, because they must." He paused. "It is their duty."

"Yeah." Zuko bit his lip. "The Fire Nation doesn't have anything like that. We…." He trailed off, drawing a breath and glancing carefully at the other man. Hakoda put down his bone tool and listened patiently. "We're taught to believe that….that fire is the superior element," Zuko managed. Hakoda's expression did not change; he only listened. "We're taught that the sons and daughters of fire should rule and that people of the other elements are weak by comparison. I learned from watching Katara and Aang and Toph that that wasn't true," he said quickly, "but…."

Hakoda did not seem angry. "But?" he prompted.

"But I guess I didn't really realize just how wrong it was until today." He drew a breath, staring down at his hands. "I don't think any one of the Fire Nation nobility could have done what I saw Bato or Sokka or Sangok do out there today. I sure couldn't. My firebending couldn't help me at all—it was completely useless." _I was completely useless._

The Water Tribe man regarded him some more. "As I said," he mentioned, "Water Tribe men face their fear of the hunt because they have to and it is their duty to their community." He paused. "You did not have to. The Water Tribe is not your community and you have no duty towards us. You did anyway, because you chose to—you wished to follow our traditions and to honor the woman who is to be your wife. That shows a great deal of courage and integrity, as well as respect for us as a people. I am proud of you for it."

 _ **Proud** of me?_ Zuko's eyes jerked up to meet Hakoda's. _He's not serious—he's just saying that. **Why** is he saying that?_ He searched Hakoda's face closely, looking for some sign as to what Hakoda might really mean. The Water Tribe man watched him patiently, but there was a look in his eyes that Zuko could never remember seeing in his own father's.

"Do….do you really mean that?" he asked unsteadily.

"I do."

 _Proud of me. Katara's dad is proud of me._ Zuko slowly turned that thought over in his mind, tasting it. An unfamiliar, prickling sensation was spreading through him, something like the warmth of fire; he felt light, buoyant. His face felt strange; it took him a moment to realize he was actually grinning. It had been a long time. The last time he could remember smiling like that was when Katara had first told him she loved him.

"Th—thank you," he managed after a moment. "Sir. Thank you."

Hakoda offered a small smile back. "Let's get these boats taken care of."

The two of them worked together on the line of boats; besides the coracle, there was a canoe, an umiak and two kayaks. "The umiak is my mother's; Katara's is disassembled and in pieces hanging from the ceiling in her room," Hakoda told Zuko. "The plain kayak is mine; the painted one is Pakku's. He brought it down with him all the way from the North Pole and he is quite proud of it even though he never uses it, so we will be careful with that one."

"Yes, sir," Zuko told Hakoda, and the Water Tribe man smiled again. "Where—where is Sokka's?" he asked, greatly daring.

"Sokka never finished his kayak," Hakoda said, and Zuko was surprised to see a twinkle in his eyes. "Technically he was supposed to get Katara to sew the skins for it. Getting Katara to do anything like that is, however, like pulling teeth….or at least it was before I left." He paused, and Zuko saw a shadow fall across his face; Zuko tensed, but Hakoda squeezed his shoulder reassuringly and continued. "Of course, it would have been difficult for Katara to finish sewing the skins for it when, from what my mother told me, Sokka never got around to catching all the seals he needed. So perhaps he cannot entirely blame her for it. Though I'm sure it doesn't stop him from trying."

Zuko just nodded, listening in quiet wonder to the easy, affectionate way Katara's father spoke of his two children. He had known other families were like this, but experiencing it was another thing entirely.

Together, they wrestled the boats up onto the igloo, one by one; Hakoda could lift them up with ease, but Zuko was not tall enough to reach comfortably, and had to strain to raise his end of the heavy umiak above his head. "Careful there," Hakoda chided, hearing his grunts. "Don't hurt yourself, lad."

"I can do it," he responded, somewhat breathless, and gave a heave, putting his aching shoulders into it.

Hakoda caught the other end, and maneuvered the boat into place. He clapped Zuko on the back again, and Zuko thought he saw respect in Hakoda's eyes. It felt very sweet. "Here," Hakoda said, gesturing him to the lashings that would secure the umiak in place. "The knots are a little complicated." Zuko watched as he threaded the leather cord in and out through rings on the umiak to ties set in the side of the building.

"Why does it have to be tied down so tightly?"

"So the winds don't catch the boat and blow it away," Hakoda explained. "You've noticed how strong they can be. Make sure it's even on your end."

"Right." Zuko tugged at the lines, evening them out where they looped from the ice ties frozen into the igloo up to the side of the umiak; he knotted it as tightly as he could. Hakoda looked over at his work.

"Not bad. Let's do the coracle next."

As they hoisted the coracle up onto the roof, Hakoda looked at him evaluatively. "I have been wondering," he said. "How is it, if you do not mind telling me, that my daughter caught the eye of the Fire Lord?"

Zuko almost dropped his side. "What?"

His eyes jerked up to Hakoda's face across the curving surface of the boat, but there was no disapproval there. If anything, Zuko almost thought he saw the same twinkle he had seen earlier in Hakoda's eyes.

"Katara is a fine young lady, to be sure—though perhaps as her father I'm a little biased," Hakoda admitted with a slight smile, "but I'm sure there are many fine young ladies of the Fire Nation as well. You have certainly demonstrated a deep devotion to my daughter, and I'm a little curious about it."

Zuko had no idea what his expression was; his mind was blank. _What's he asking this for? What's the right answer?_ Hakoda studied him for a moment.

"If you would like me to mind my own business, just tell me," he said at last. "Katara would not hesitate to do so, and probably in less polite words than those."

Zuko bit his lip. He didn't know what to say; he had no words that could do justice to what was, hands-down, one of the best—if not _the_ best—things that had ever happened to him. He couldn't even explain to himself how this had happened, so how could he….?

Hakoda was waiting for an answer, and Zuko knew he owed him one. After a moment, he drew a breath. "It….we….." He swallowed at a sudden rush of memory.

"It was when….we f-found out some news. About my mother."

It had been in the early days, shortly after they had joined Aang and his group—at Aang's request; the Avatar had approached Iroh to be his firebending teacher. Zuko had long since given up on the idea that capturing Aang would help by that time, but he had still hated the idea and been furious with Iroh for agreeing; it had not been until much later that he realized a big part of the reason he had hated it so much was because it had felt like Aang was trying to take his uncle away from him. _He already has all those friends, and now he wants my uncle too? On top of everything else he's got?_ He had raged, shouted, and called Iroh every nasty name in the book, and none of it had done any good; Iroh had simply smiled and said, "Then it's agreed. We will join the Avatar."

"It was….right after we left Ba Sing Se—we were still in the Earth Kingdom."

They had left Ba Sing Se one step ahead of Azula, after the fiasco with that giant drill thing she had had; Aang had found Appa by that time, and they had flown away from the city under cover of darkness; then had tried to stick mostly to out of the way places, following the back roads, stopping only in small, nameless towns. Iroh had begun teaching Aang firebending right away, and Aang was incredibly quick to pick it up. Watching Aang drill with Iroh jerked Zuko back to his childhood, when he had watched Azula outclass him with ease; he felt the same helpless, frustrated anger. It didn't help that Aang and Iroh seemed to genuinely enjoy each other's company, either; the two of them drifted into the habit of playing a game of pai-sho every night after they made camp, despite Aang's frequent declarations that Iroh cheated "worse than Gyatso," whoever that had been.

In fact, Iroh had seemed to get along with most everyone in Aang's group. Zuko had been startled to find that he and that blind earthbending prodigy (who had reminded him even more of Azula in those early days; he had left her severely alone, and watched her with suspicion) already knew each other. The two of them often sipped tea together and conversed about the earthbending tournament circuits; Zuko, who knew little of earthbending and cared less, could never follow their conversation. Iroh listened with enthusiasm to Sokka's tales of hunting exploits, and he and Katara held long, involved conversations about the nature and philosophy of the different bending arts; the two of them even attempted to swap techniques, though Zuko had no idea how that might work. Zuko watched all this sullenly. _Who cares. I don't need them. Any of them. Not—not even Uncle. I can do just fine by myself._ He told himself he was angry; at least it kept him from feeling how miserable he was.

Sometimes they had tried to make overtures to him: Aang invited him to a pai-sho game (Zuko didn't play pai-sho, at least not well), or Toph, grinning nastily, would offer to spar with him (as if Zuko was stupid enough to take her up on that; he had learned about sparring with Azula when he was eight), or Sokka would (grudgingly) ask Zuko if he wanted to help check his traplines (Zuko knew nothing about hunting or traplines, whatever those might be.) He had rebuffed them all. He knew why they were making nice with him; it was because of Iroh and for no other reason. Only Katara had held back. She had never pushed, never intruded, simply treated him with a distant, gentle graciousness that disconcerted him at first—after all, it had not been so long ago that the two of them had been beating the crap out of each other up at the North Pole—but that after a time, he came to find vaguely soothing. The two of them often ended up being the ones doing most of the cooking, him with his firebending and her with her waterbending. After a while, Zuko realized that he was looking forward to mealtimes more than he cared to admit. It was strange; when they had been fighting all the time, he had never noticed that she could also be gentle….

"We stopped in this one trading post. One of my uncle's friends was there. He had some information for us."

It had been one of Iroh's pai-sho buddies, a member of that secret White Lotus society of his, a short little skinny bald man who looked like a ferret. Iroh and the rest of the group had approached him at that trading post because they were trying to find out information about a possible way into the Fire Nation through some of the underground movements; during the pretense of playing a game, Iroh had asked him for anything he knew about the political situation.

There, as everyone stood huddled around the table, screening the conversation from any prying ears, the man had divulged what he knew. In the course of talking about the current situation of the Fire Nation, some information was revealed about Ursa that Zuko had not known before. He heard for the first time what had really happened the night she had disappeared, the whole story behind his father's bid for the crown and his grandfather Azulon's death, and just how deeply his mother had been involved in what was going on. Things came out about his family that were very hard for him to hear. As Zuko had stood there, numbly listening to the man talk on and on in a cool unemotional tone about events that had burned themselves into his memory, it was as if he were ten again, surrounded by vast, threatening, terrifying forces that he only half-understood and could not control. It was worse because he was fully aware that all of Aang's friends were hearing everything he heard, and watching (or so he imagined) for his reaction.

When the man had finished, "She died a hero. I don't know where we'd be now, if not for what she'd done," matter-of-factly destroying in two sentences Zuko's secret, long-cherished dream that one day his mother would come back to him, it had felt as if his heart had been ripped out of his chest. He had slowly raised his eyes to see Aang and his friends, all staring at him with deep, solemn eyes. Iroh did not look surprised at all, he saw, only sympathetic. For a brief flash, Zuko had wondered why, and then realization struck him in the ribs like a war rhino's kick, leaving him gasping for breath.

"You knew," he had whispered. "You knew all along and you never…."

"No. But I suspected." Iroh had sounded so sad.

Later, after Iroh had explained, Zuko would reluctantly agree with the old firebender that he had done the right thing: Iroh had had no proof, nothing more than hunches and guesswork, and if Iroh had confided in him, he would have been asking a ten-year-old Zuko to believe terrible and frightening allegations about his own family with not a shred of evidence to back him up. But at that moment he knew none of those things; all he saw was that the one person he trusted in all the world had known that his mother was dead and had said nothing.

Now, Zuko swallowed, aware of Hakoda's eyes on him. "He—the man—told me how my mother died. I hadn't known. Hearing it was….rough."

That was an understatement. Zuko had stood there, staring at the Avatar's friends staring back at him and waiting for his reaction; at Iroh, who was looking at him with eyes filled with sad knowledge. As he had stood there, suddenly something had begun welling up inside Zuko's chest; he had no idea what it was, only that he could not be there anymore, _could not._ Every muscle in his body had felt stiff and trembling; rigidly, Zuko had swung around and headed for the door, walking very fast. He had heard Iroh and Aang both calling for him, but he had paid them no heed; he had flung himself out the door as if he were struggling up out of quicksand.

"Katara….she was there…."

He had thrown himself into the forest around the trading post with no idea where he was going, paying no attention to his surroundings; he had plunged through bushes, raspberry vines, over small saplings, clearing his way with blows and kicks and fire. He had no idea how long he'd been out there when he heard her behind him. "Zuko, _wait!_ " It was Katara. She had followed him, and was coming up fast; later, he would learn that she had been using the plant-bending technique Hue had taught her to clear her way.

He had twisted his ankle on a stone, and while he could still walk on it, it was hurting badly; he could not escape her. She was moving faster through the undergrowth than he was anyway; he could not have outrun her even if he had been fit. So he wheeled on her instead, like a trapped animal being brought to bay.

"Go away!"

"Zuko—"

He had been desperate to drive her off, for he could feel that thing in his chest; it was growing stronger, a rush of heat that was rising up his throat, making him swallow; his face was flushed, his eyelids prickling, and he was horrified to realize that he was very close to tears. He snarled at her, furious—she _must not_ see him weep.

" _Leave me **alone**!"_

She had not left him. Assuming a nonthreatening stance and speaking quickly, she said, "Zuko, my mom died when I was little. I know it's not the same, but I do know how you feel," and had fallen silent.

Zuko had stared at her, panting. She said nothing more, did nothing more, simply stood there, her blue tunic bright amid the greens and browns of the forest wall behind her, her waterbending skin at her side. He saw that she had uncorked it, but that fact had no meaning for him. Her eyes were filled with sympathy, he saw, and thought about throwing a fireburst at her; but as he drew in a breath to do that, his chest hitched, his breath caught in his throat, and he realized it was going to happen and that he could not stop it. Another breath, another, and he heard himself give a choked sob.

Katara had come and taken him in her arms. She had buried his scarred face against her shoulder, held him, and said nothing at all while he wept—huge, racking, painful cries that felt as if they were tearing their way out of his throat. Somehow they had lowered to forest floor and he was holding her so tightly that he must have been hurting her, but she had made no sound of complaint. She ran one hand down his injured ankle and he felt for the first time her healing ability, but he didn't know what it was and barely registered it anyway. It had felt like he was going to weep forever; he had wept until he hadn't even known why he was crying anymore—for his mother, for himself, for all the things he hadn't known and couldn't have stopped. When at last his tears had abated, he felt drained and empty inside. He could not look at her; he'd stared at the grass, pulling blades up by the roots and fiddling with them.

Katara had pushed him away gently and risen to her feet. "I'll go back first," she had said. "Then you. Take some time." She had turned and he had heard her footsteps retreating; raising his head to watch her go, he saw her hold out her hands and simply part the vegetation, bending it out of the way on either side of her to reveal a thin line through the forest. As she stepped onto the path, it closed up behind her, leaving him alone.

That had been all. She had said nothing about it to any of the others; some time later, after he had collected himself, gathered his courage, and returned to the trading post, while pausing at the threshold trying to get up his nerve to step inside, he overheard Aang saying, "Are you _sure_ you couldn't find him, Katara?" and Katara's response, "I told you. I looked everywhere. He's probably off setting something on fire." She hadn't mentioned it to him either, until a few days later, when he had muttered awkwardly over a boiling pot of stew, "Thank you."

Katara had raised her head and regarded him appraisingly. "Next time," she had replied quietly, "come to me first." She had suddenly reached out and tugged at his hair; it had been long enough by then that he had begun pulling it back and tying it at the base of his neck to keep it out of the way. "Ponytail boy." He had never seen an expression quite like the smile she had given him then; despite everything, he had been startled into smiling back.

It was that smile, he sometimes thought, that had really been the beginning.

"She was there," he repeated lamely, and looked down at his hands.

Hakoda said nothing for a moment, but merely watched him; Zuko, glancing up at his pale blue eyes, had a sense that perhaps he guessed all that Zuko had not said. "Katara was always a very compassionate girl," he said finally. "She is….very much like her mother was in that respect. Neither of them could ever stand to see anyone hurting without trying to help them."

"I know." He nodded, pensive.

The Water Tribe man looked down at his soon-to-be son-in-law. "Her mother and I were very happy together." Hakoda's words were simple, but Zuko could hear the real depth of feeling behind them. "I'm sure that you and Katara will be just as happy."

"I hope so." Zuko bit his lip.

"You hope so?"

He shifted uneasily, feeling the words he had scarcely dared to admit to himself trembling in his throat. "This marriage…it scares me," he confessed in a rush, then winced, wondering if Hakoda would shout at him or demand to know what he thought he was doing, saying that about his daughter.

"Oh?" The Water Tribe man did not seem angry. "It scares you?" At Zuko's shamefaced nod, Hakoda smiled. "I think it is natural to be a little scared. After all, neither of you have ever been married before, and it's a big step. What scares you?" he asked.

Zuko hesitated, wondering in some part of his mind about the Water Tribe man's kindness—whether it was real, and why. He turned away from Hakoda, staring at the ice wall of the igloo, thinking the dismal thoughts that had been swirling around his head for the past few weeks. "What if….What if I can't make Katara happy? I've never been able to make anyone happy my whole life, why should it be any different with her?" He kicked at the snow a bit, not seeing Hakoda's thoughtful look. "What if it doesn't work out? What if she changes her mind, or what if she decides that she doesn't want to be with me anymore? What if I disappoint her? What if—"

"Perhaps you need to stop thinking so much of the 'what ifs,'" he heard Hakoda suggest gently, "and concentrate more on what you have now."

He gave a long, frustrated sigh. "That's what Uncle says. But it's easy for _him_ to say. What does he have to deal with?" he said harshly. The snowy igloo glittered in the sunlight, the light shining directly into his eyes; he blinked and looked away. "I haven't even been confirmed as Fire Lord yet," he found himself admitting in a low voice. "They were going to do the coronation when we got back to the Fire Nation. Most of the fire nobility hate me anyway because I helped the Avatar to overthrow my father. And if they hate _me_ ….Katara…." He clenched his fists, staring into the face of the fear that had been haunting him for weeks. "What are we going to do if they don't accept me?" _Or even if they do,_ he thought to himself grimly. Even if they did accept him, it would be tough going and he knew it. _And for Katara…._

He had been talking to himself; he was surprised to feel Hakoda's warm, comforting hand on his shoulder. Startled, he turned and looked up at the Water Tribe man.

"If they do not accept you as Fire Lord, then you will have to return to your home among your wife's people at the South Pole."

 _What…?_ Zuko searched his face closely, hardly daring to believe what he thought he had heard. "My—home?"

Hakoda nodded. "This is your home now."

"You…you mean that?"

"I do." Hakoda smiled. "To the Water Tribe, nothing is more important than family. And you are family now, son."

It was as if a tightly-tied knot had been buried in his chest, and now it suddenly loosed. A huge wave of relief washed over him; he felt himself relax in ways that he hadn't even realized he had been tense. _He said 'home.'_ And Hakoda had called him _son._ That buoyant feeling was back, even stronger; he felt light-headed, giddy. He had to look down at his feet to be sure they were touching the ground. _I have a place to go if the Fire Nation throws me out. I have people on my side. I have family. I'm not alone….not alone…_

He could not speak, but Katara's father seemed to see some of his thoughts in his eyes; he reached out and gave Zuko a rough, one-armed embrace. "Come on, son," he said, repeating it. "The boats aren't going to store themselves."


	9. Chapter 9

They had just finished raising the last one to the top of the igloo when Sokka came wandering in around from the front. He was swinging his machete in one hand; idly, he trailed it along the top of the ice fence, knocking off the snow that had accumulated there. "Couldn't find him, Dad," he called as he rounded the side of the igloo. "I looked everywhere. Maybe he got lost and froze to death." Sokka did not sound overly distressed at the prospect. "We should tell Katara—"

He fell silent as he caught sight of Zuko. His face fell. "Never mind," he said, clearly disappointed.

"You're just in time, Sokka," Hakoda told his son, stepping forward. "Zuko and I have just finished putting the boats on top of the lodge, and we are about to go inside to see if Kanna needs help in the kitchen yet." _We are?_ Zuko wondered, looking up at Hakoda. "I'm sure your grandmother could use some help. Come on."

He started around curving wall of the igloo again, gesturing the two youths to follow; they lingered behind, eyeing each other.

Sokka looked at Zuko with open hostility. "What are _you_ doing back _here_? The last I remember, Iroh basically sent you to your room."

Zuko drew a breath. "I'm sorry about what I said," he managed to make himself say; he didn't like the idea of apologizing to Sokka at all, but he knew he had to.

"You oughtta be." Sokka did not look appeased. "Especially after I risked my neck to pull you out of the ocean. I don't appreciate being called 'Water Tribe filth' by a guy I put my life on the line for. I guess I'm funny that way."

"I _said_ I was sorry," Zuko repeated, feeling himself start to bristle.

"Yeah, and I said you _oughtta_ be." Zuko felt his grip on his own temper start to slip a notch, but Sokka stopped, visibly catching himself. "Apology accepted," he said after a moment. He looked at Zuko. "Maybe….maybe I was a little rough on you too," he admitted grudgingly after a moment. He looked as if the admission hurt. "I'll admit I wasn't thrilled with the idea of having to babysit a completely incompetent Fire Nation on my first whale hunt ever."

Zuko let it pass; he only nodded in return. "Thank you for pulling me out of the ocean."

Sokka shook his head in disgust. "Don't mention it. It's not something I want spread around." He turned his back on Zuko and started off; Zuko's legs were slightly longer, and he caught up to Sokka easily.

"Why did you do it?"

"Why did I save you?" Sokka asked, glancing at him with one raised eyebrow. "You actually think I would leave you to die?"

He looked insulted, and Zuko felt himself flushing. "Well, I know—I mean—I know you don't like me—"

Sokka's lips traced his final words. He stopped in his tracks, turning to look at the Fire Nation boy. "No, Zuko," he said roughly. "I _don't_ like you. In fact, I don't think I ever _will_ like you. On my best days, I _might_ be able to tolerate you, no more. If or when Katara ever finally comes to her senses, wonders what she ever saw in you, and sends you packing, I'll be thrilled—probably throw a party. But…."

Here Sokka paused, looking intently at Zuko. His expression was very sour indeed. After a moment he sighed. " _But,_ until such a happy day comes along—as little as I may like it," he added grimly, "you're family. And in the Water Tribe, that means something. You _don't_ back out on your family. Not ever. Not that I expect _you_ to understand that."

"Thank you," Zuko said again, moved in spite of himself.

"Don't thank me. I'm not doing it for you."

"I know. Still." He paused. "What you said about family in the Water Tribe….In the Fire Nation, it's, uh….not like that."

"Yeah, I'd noticed. And you call _us_ barbaric." Sokka cast a jaded eye on him. "Don't worry. I'm not by any stretch of the imagination expecting you to live up to that level of devotion. Toward me _or_ Katara."

"No—that's not what I mean, I—" Zuko shook his head in defeat. "Never mind."

Sokka gave him another glance, then snorted. After a moment, he said grudgingly, "So Dad had you helping him to put the boats on top of the lodge?"

At Zuko's nod, he gave an edged smile. "Figures. That's what he always did with me when he wanted to talk to me man-to-man—he'd take me out back to do yard work. 'Sokka, help me put the boats up.' 'Sokka, let's go fix that crack in the ice fence.' 'Sokka, come and help me clean out the coldbox.' You got off easy." He fixed Zuko with a dour eye. "He ought to have made you re-surface the igloo."

Zuko could not remember Ozai ever talking with him "man-to-man." "What does that involve?"

"Forget it." Sokka pointed up to the sky. "It looks like we're about to have visitors."

It had been Appa Sokka had pointed at, as they saw when they made it around to the front yard; Appa landed right in front of the entryway, snorting out plumes of white vapor. Aang and Toph were on his back, along with Suki, and Zuko was surprised to find that Aang had picked up Katara and Iroh as well.

"We met them down by the docks," Aang explained, airbending himself to a soft landing; he turned to offer a hand up to Toph, who climbed down Appa's side very carefully.

"Toph, you need to put on shoes," Katara was scolding her; she leapt lightly down off Appa and caught the blind earthbender in her arms.

"It makes it harder to see," Toph complained, squirming. "Let me down, Katara!"

"Not unless you _promise_ to put on _shoes_. This is the South Pole. The snow is ankle-deep. I know shoes interfere with your seeing, but frostbite would probably do the same thing. You don't want to lose your toes."

" _Suki!"_ Sokka's cry was echoed by the Kyoshi warrior, leaping lightly down over the side; the two warriors ran toward each other, and Sokka caught Suki up and swung her around, kissing her passionately. Suki was kissing him back just as hard; then she hooked a foot behind his ankle and tossed him, laughing. Sokka bounced to his feet, laughing too, and tried for a trip, but Suki swayed out of the way. "Not quite. You're getting better though!"

"Man, did I miss you, Suki," Sokka was saying. "I'm so glad you're here. Come on, you've gotta meet Dad—"

He took Suki by the arm, escorting her into the igloo. "Watch your head—it's a low entrance," he cautioned, pushing aside the entrance hangings. Suki, giggling, followed him in.

"Here, Aang," Katara said, handing Toph to Aang. Aang staggered under Toph's weight, and Toph clutched at the little airbender convulsively. "Take her inside and give her my old boots—you can find them in my room under the bed."

" _Katara!"_ Toph squalled indignantly.

"Sure, Katara—how do I know where your room is?" Aang asked.

"Dad will know, if you can pry him away from Sokka and Suki." She made a shooing motion with her hand. "Go on now."

"Twinkle Toes, put me _down!_ " The tiny earthbender was cursing ill-temperedly as Aang hauled her into the igloo.

Zuko and Katara were suddenly left alone outside, with Appa and Iroh. They glanced at each other sidelong.

Iroh looked at the two of them for a long moment. "What a day!" he said briskly. "I think I will go inside and see if I can't warm up a bit."

He gave Zuko a pat on the shoulder and scrambled into the entrance, ducking to fit. Zuko and Katara stood, looking at each other, for a moment longer. The air between them seemed to tremble with the unsaid.

"I talked to Iroh—"

"I talked to Hakoda—"

Both of them were startled into laughter as they spoke at the same time. Somehow after that it was easier.

"Katara, about what I said….I acted like a jackass in front of your family, and I didn't mean it—"

"I know you didn't," she said, nodding. "I kind of understand why you said it, too." She smiled up at him, and he thought dimly that he had never seen eyes so vividly blue as hers were. "I'm very proud of you for going on the whale hunt, Zuko," she told him quietly.

"Your dad said the same thing," Zuko brought out.

" _Did_ he?" Katara's eyes widened. She looked impressed.

"Well—I think he was just trying to be polite." _Polite or not, he still said it._

"Nope." Katara shook her head. "Dad never says anything he doesn't mean. If he said he was proud of you, that's what he meant." She grinned fetchingly. "Did he say anything else?"

"He said…." Zuko swallowed a bit. "He said that…this was my home now. That I was family." _He called me "son."_ "Even Sokka—he wasn't happy about it, but he said…."

"Of course," Katara nodded at once, firmly. "You're Water Tribe now, Zuko, and that—"

"That means something," he finished with her, remembering what Sokka had said.

"Right." Katara smiled. "Sounds like you really won Dad over—and Sokka too." She raised her eyebrows. "I knew you could do it," she added warmly.

 _She knew I could…_ Zuko paused a moment, to savor the sensation, then drew a breath. "He also said, uh…." He tried to speak lightly, but he was closely watching Katara's face. "He said that we could come back and live here if it didn't work out in the Fire Nation."

Katara smiled, but a shadow crossed her face, and she said nothing. Zuko's heart sank.

"You know," he began, trying to warn her, "that in the Fire Nation, they still….they still think—"

"I know." Katara had guessed what he was talking about. "That's one of the things I was talking to Iroh about." She bit her lip, looking pensive. "He said that we needed to be prepared because it would be very difficult, perhaps even more difficult than we had thought."

There was silence for a moment. Zuko shifted his feet in the snow and exhaled, long and slow. This thought had been preying on his mind too. After a moment, he forced himself to speak the question that had been on his lips since he had seen her with her father. "Katara," he asked awkwardly, "do you want to stay here?"

Katara stared at the snow-covered ground. The shadow did not leave her face. "You have to be the Fire Lord."

 _I don't want to be the Fire Lord,_ he might have said. It was strange—he had spent so long trying to capture Aang, at least partly so that he could get his throne back. Now that the prospect of ruling was staring him in the face, however, he suddenly realized that he had absolutely no desire to actually _be_ Fire Lord. Not least, to be Fire Lord of a country that had thrown him out once and that was now under occupation by the Water Tribe and Earth Kingdom soldiers. He couldn't tell it to Katara, though; _how do I tell her that I'm scared to go back?_

"I could…If you want me to, Katara, I could abdicate," he settled for, part of him hoping she would say yes. He ignored the fact that there was no one for him to abdicate in favor of. "I could give up my throne and we could stay here…."

"I couldn't ask you to do that for me," Katara said quietly. "You have a duty, Zuko, and I don't ever want to put you in the position of having to choose between your duty and me. That's not fair to you." She swallowed slightly. "Iroh said that even though it would be very hard at first, he thought it would turn out all right eventually."

"Did he?"

"Yeah." She paused. "He said, among other things, that the Fire Nation respected nothing so much as strength and if we could just be strong enough, eventually they'd come to accept us." She shrugged and gave him a weak smile. "It sounds about right to me."

Zuko nodded, thinking it sounded right to him too. His uncle had unerring political insight, Zuko knew from experience; _if Iroh says it's all right, then it usually will be._ They were silent for a moment longer, then Katara looked up at him, and the shadow fled from her face, to be replaced with a look of such tenderness that it warmed Zuko's heart.

"At least, we can give it a try," she murmured. "After all, if you were willing to go on a whale hunt for me…."

He stepped back, feeling himself flush a bit. "The whale hunt wasn't such a big deal," he heard himself fumbling, trying to pass off the experience.

"Yes, it was," Katara replied firmly. "And…." She drew a breath. "If….If you could be that brave for me, then I can be brave enough to face the Fire Nation nobility for you."

Zuko looked down at her, seeing the pride and admiration in her eyes. He thought of the same pride that he had seen in Hakoda's eyes, of Sokka's grudging acceptance. _She wants me. They want me. I have family now._ Slowly, hesitantly, he began to let himself believe it; he was no longer an outcast. It was hard, coming to realize that after so long; it was strange, to feel wanted.

Suddenly, words were trembling on his lips, words that he never thought he would have dared to say. _Now or never._ With a sudden rush, he forced them out.

"Katara, wh…." His heart faltered, and he had to stop.

"Yes?" she asked quietly.

"Wh…." He drew a breath, remembering what she had said about his courage. "What you said about…..about after the wedding." Katara was silent, but looked at him questioningly. ""After the wedding, how you would h…."

"Heal you?"

He closed his eyes and nodded, grateful for Katara's gentle words, and glad that she knew him well enough to say what he could scarcely bring himself to say.

"Yes, I remember," she continued. She came forward and put her arms around him.

 _This is Katara,_ he reminded himself. Katara would not laugh at him or mock him. She would not scowl at him in disapproval or tell him he was a disgrace. She would understand. He drew a breath, then another one.

"I want you to do it. Before we return to the Fire Nation."

She studied him for a long moment. "Are you sure?" At his tight nod, her smile widened, and she reached up to touch his face. "All right," she whispered. "I love you, Zuko. It'll be okay. I love you."

 _And I love you too, Katara,_ he thought, but the words caught in his throat somehow, choking him when he tried to say them; his eyes were suddenly stinging. He held her instead, trying to show his feelings through his embrace; she stretched up to kiss him, when the hangings to the igloo's entrance were swept aside.

"All right, Katara, I got your stupid mukluks and now I can barely see, are you happy? Kanna says come inside this minute or else you'll miss dinner, and—" Toph paused, frowning. "Am I interrupting something?"

The two of them stepped apart. "No, Toph," Katara assured her, smiling. "We were just going in." She squeezed Zuko's hand tightly and he squeezed her hand back, and the two of them followed the little earthbender inside.


	10. Chapter 10

The day of the wedding dawned bright and clear, with not a cloud in the sky; the slanting rays of the sun brought the temperature up to almost tolerable levels. There had been a fresh snowfall the night before, and the ground was sparkling white, the igloos glistening in the bright and clear morning sun. As Zuko stepped out of the door of Hakoda's igloo, turning to the east and squinting into the morning light, the crisp and clear air tasted like a fine wine.

Hakoda had lent Zuko his best parka for the occasion; it was thick, luxuriant tiger-seal fur, with an overmantle of white polar bear fur, and arctic ferret tails with black tips arranged at either shoulder. A necklace of intricately carved and worked bear canines, inlaid with pearl and mother-of-pearl, had been placed around his neck and as an armband around each arm, and he wore a heavy headdress made from the preserved head of a saber-toothed bear, with long curving fangs arcing down on either side of his face. Underneath it, he wore his Fire Nation garments, but the outer furs were so thick and heavy that he barely felt the intense cold.

Sokka stepped out of Hakoda's house right after him, dressed similarly, though without the bear headdress. He looked at Zuko coolly, but was polite as he said, "Ready?"

"I think so," Zuko replied, his voice slightly unsteady. Sokka gave him a jaded glance, but said nothing.

"Here you go." He handed Zuko the wrapped hide piece of whale meat from their hunt. "Where's Iroh?"

"Right here," Iroh called, emerging from the igloo right behind Sokka. Iroh had borrowed some of Pakku's furs for the occasion, having been carefully altered by Kanna; Zuko thought it looked strange to see his uncle swathed in blue and white, and realized that he himself must look similarly strange. He smiled beatifically. "What a lovely day."

"Let's go."

Water Tribe custom required that the man meet the woman at her house, from whence they would then proceed to the ice altar set up at the village outskirts. Katara had moved into Pakku's and Kanna's addition the night before; it was either Zuko or she that would have to move out for the custom, and Pakku had been icily formal with Zuko since the day of the whale hunt, so Katara had volunteered to move. Therefore, this procession was only around back of the igloo. Zuko walked the few steps in a daze. He couldn't believe it was finally happening: at last, he would have Katara for his wife.

Hakoda met them at the door, standing with his arms folded and a solemn expression on his face; he also wore a luxuriant seal-fur parka with a headdress, but his was of arctic beaver. Kanna was standing beside him, her hair woven with bone beads and chunks of amber; Pakku was to the left of her, a chill in his eyes, but he nodded to Zuko politely enough. Sokka nudged him with an elbow before going to take his place to the right of Hakoda.

Zuko's mouth was dry as he bowed, first to Hakoda, then, deeper, to Kanna; he managed to hand over the chunk of whale flesh to Kanna without dropping it, saying the words he had been told _—"Should I be able to prevent it, your daughter will never know want, nor hardship, nor suffering, nor shall her children, nor her children's children."_. Kanna accepted it with a single nod, but he thought he saw a twinkle in her blue eyes. Next came Iroh, handing over a small chest to Hakoda and Sokka both; most of the bridewealth had been given earlier, at the same time as Katara's wivesgifts, but some of it had been kept back for the ceremony. He missed Iroh's words, but Hakoda's came to his ears clearly: _"These gifts show the honor in which you hold us and our daughter; we accept them as a fitting token of your esteem."_

Katara came to the entrance then; Hakoda and Kanna moved back and to the sides, and she stepped into the yard, smiling brighter than the sun. Zuko could scarcely breathe. He knew in that instant that he had never seen her look more beautiful, and that he would never forget that moment.

Like him, she was dressed in furs, but her furs were dyed a deeper, darker color, of the hue Zuko had heard called "royal blue." On her head, she wore a bear headdress like his, but hers was of the female, and around her shoulders was clasped a cloak made entirely of ice-ferret tails. Into her hair on either side of her face were braided pure white snow-hen feathers.

Iroh and Kanna had come up with a unique solution to the problem of bridewealth: instead of gifting Katara's family with massive amounts of traditional gifts such as furs and hides and meat, Zuko would give only a few gifts, but those that he gave would be priceless. As a result, Katara was wearing part of her bridewealth at that moment: a necklace of flawless sapphires interspersed with moonstones, surrounding a sea opal carved with the water tribe crest; a pair of heavy diamond and pearl earrings in the shape of water droplets, a girdle of interlocking white gold links studded with diamonds and shaped like the crescent moon, and solid white-gold diamond-and-sapphire bracelets and armbands. A single star sapphire hung from a silver chain in the middle of her forehead. To Zuko's bewildered eyes, she looked like a goddess, an incarnation of the ocean or the moon. He wondered what she was seeing when she looked at him.

"You look wonderful," he murmured as Kanna took her hand to draw her through the doorway, then placed her hand in Zuko's. She reddened faintly and smiled a small, secret smile.

"Thank you," she whispered back. "So do you…."

Hakoda came up on one side of them and took Katara's arm; at a nod, Iroh took Zuko's arm on the other side. "Let's go," Hakoda told the two of them as the others fell in behind them. "To the boat."

They took Katara's umiak through the canals of the ice village, with Katara and Zuko seated in the stern, kneeling side by side, and the rest of the party paddling. The village was empty as they made their way through the silent canals, and the sun gleaming off the ice walls turned the houses into sparkling crystal under the pale, luminous sky. Zuko was filled with silent wonder at the beauty around him; it reminded him of the stories of enchanted cities his mother used to tell him when he was a child. Beside him in the stern, Katara was quiet and thoughtful, her hands folded in her lap.

"Where is everyone?" he asked her in a low voice.

"Probably waiting for us at the glacial altar," she answered.

"Not much farther," Hakoda told them, looking back over his shoulder. "Aang and Toph are probably there already." Aang had agreed to bless the ceremony.

As they reached the snowfield surrounded by low hills where the ice altar had been set up, Zuko stiffened in surprise; the white of the snowfield was blue with the parkas of the entire population of the town. He saw men, women, children and the elderly, clustered in knots and clumps on the expanse of white, and a low, hushed buzz of conversation came to their ears. "There's so many people," he said, surprised.

"Of course," Hakoda told him. "This is the wedding of Katara the Mighty, after all."

The gondola drew up to the side of the bank, as the assembled crowd all watched silently. Hakoda stepped from the boat to the snowy bank first, and turned to offer his assistance to Katara; she took his hand, and with her skirts clutched in one hand stepped out gracefully, her head lowered. Zuko was afraid that when he climbed out he would lose his balance and fall in the water, but he didn't; he climbed out as smoothly as if he were watching himself in a dream.

Under the bright morning sky, the party proceeded toward the ice altar; Hakoda and Iroh were in front, then Zuko and Katara; Kanna and Pakku came behind with Sokka bringing up the rear. The crowd watched silently as they proceeded, pulling back to form a center aisle for them; many pairs of blue eyes followed their progress. The hush that hung over the assembly was almost complete; the crunching of their footsteps as they passed over the snowy ground was the loudest sound in the still air. It reminded Zuko of the silence at the great ceremonial events of the Fire Nation. Zuko spotted Toph and Suki side by side at the front; Suki smiled at them, then whispered a word to the blind earthbender, who waved. Those strange waterbenders from Foggy Swamp were right next to the two of them, still wearing their leaf hats, and they waved as well, calling out to Katara.

The altar was a single block of ice, carved in a shape similar to that of the standing stones that Hakoda had shown Zuko earlier; it was clear as glass and detailed exquisitely with images of the moon, of stylized waves, of whales and seals and hunters. In the clean rays of the morning sun, the ice shone like purest crystal. Aang stood there, buried in masses of water tribe furs—he was wearing what looked to be an entire polar bear skin, head, legs, claws and all, over his blue and white parka—waiting for them. Zuko was faintly surprised the little airbender wasn't casually sitting on top of the altar, but he looked as solemn as Zuko had ever seen him. He bowed to them as they approached.

It all seemed like a dream to Zuko: the calm, ritual words by Hakoda and Iroh, as the two of them, acting as heads of the two families, pledged their mutual affection and loyalty toward one another; Kanna pronouncing that as matriarch, she gave her approval for this match of the daughter of her blood; himself, carefully repeating the words he had been told to say, glancing at Hakoda for occasional cues: _This man pledges to shelter this woman from ice and snow; to provide for her meat and blubber; to protect and defend her against all those forces, human and inhuman, who would assail her; and to nourish and shelter the children of their hearth until they are grown._ Katara's expression was quiet and thoughtful as she made the return response: _This woman pledges to shelter this man from wind and cold; to provide for him hearth and home; to fortify and succor him against all those forces, human and inhuman, who would assail him, and to nourish and care for the children of their hearth until they are grown._ The resolution he saw in her face as she spoke those ritual words startled him; _she means it,_ he realized faintly. _She actually means it_ ….

Try as he might to remember it in later years, that day would always come to him in a series of flashes: the pale blue-gold of the sky; the altar, caught in a ray of the morning sun, shining so brightly it appeared to be lit from within; his hands, swathed in heavy Water Tribe mittens, trembling slightly as he handed a chunk of meat cut from his bridal portion to Katara; her own, steady, as she accepted it and handed back to him a packet of jerky that she had made. Hakoda placed her hand in his, signifying that as patriarch, he gave his consent to this match, and then Sokka stepped forward, pronouncing that as oldest male of Katara's generation, he had no objection; he did not look happy about it, but he said the words.

When Aang rose to speak, Zuko hardly heard a word of the blessings he invoked upon their union; all he could see were Katara's deep blue eyes, dark and mysterious in the shadow of her bearskin headdress, the small smile playing about her lips; he had to shake himself to remind himself that it was all real and not a dream. Aang spoke of Tui and La, the Moon and Ocean spirits, and added the name of Yue whom Zuko vaguely recognized. Aang closed his small hands about their joined ones and raised them high, _By the grace of the spirits, this man and this woman are joined in marriage,_ he said, and then stepped back, leaving them alone at the altar.

As he looked down at his new wife, Zuko realized he was trembling with emotion; he saw that Katara was too. Their eyes met, and both of them burst into laughter from pure joy; that laugh felt clean, cleansing, as if it were opening up parts of Zuko's soul that the hadn't known he had; or perhaps healing him in places he hadn't known he was injured. The watching Water Tribe slowly began to applaud, first one, then others, then more and more, until the sound of their applause swelled into a mighty chorus.

 _They're cheering for us,_ Zuko realized dimly, then, _No. No, there's more than that…_ For a brief moment it felt as if he could feel the crowd's mood. They were cheering because the warriors had come home, because the whale hunts had resumed. Because they had all survived. They were cheering because it was all over, and life could finally get back to normal. The war at last was over, and what better way to end a war, he could almost feel their thoughts, than with a wedding….

His thoughts fled before Katara's radiant smile. "I love you," she whispered; she reached up, quite deliberately, and pulled him down to her. They kissed, with the thunderous cheers of the crowd ringing in their ears.

So they were wed, on that day and in that year, under a luminous southern sky, as the snow shone like crystal, to the applause and approval of the entire Southern Water Tribe.

The two of them knelt, facing each other, on the tatami mat in Zuko's cabin back on the ship. Their heavy parkas lay on the foot of the bed; Katara was in her blue kimono, while Zuko was back in his gray Fire Nation robe. The only light came from a lantern above their heads; Zuko had lit it when they had entered the room, and it shed a pool of subdued warmth around them. Katara's skin of bending water lay between them.

She smiled at Zuko, who was pale and quiet.

"Are you ready?" she asked him.

The lamplight flickered across his scarred face, casting parts of it into shadow. It was dim enough that the metallic gold of his eyes was muted to dull amber. He nodded once.

"Yeah." His voice was low.

Katara studied his face. His eyes were down. "If you've changed your mind, just say so." As he still said nothing, Katara added, "You don't have to do this for me, Zuko. I will love you whether you have it done or not. You should only do this if you want to."

"I w-want to." But his voice trembled a little.

"Are you sure?" she asked him softly. "We can do it later if you want. After we've gotten back to the Fire Nation…."

He glanced up at her. Then closed his eyes and drew a breath.

"No. Do it now." Before I lose my courage, Katara almost heard him say.

"All right."

Katara picked up her skin of bending water, uncorked it, and drew the water out, so that it formed a glowing light in her hand. Zuko watched silently. The faint light was cool and steady, in contrast to the flickering glow from the lamp above them.

"I'm not even sure it will work," Katara warned him. "I think it will, but I've never done anything like this before. So don't get your hopes up too much."

"If it doesn't work that's okay." He looked as if he meant it.

"Here goes," she told him. She started to raise her hand to his face, when he suddenly pushed her away.

"Stop," he said quickly, leaning back out of reach.

"What—" Katara began to ask, but he had closed his eyes. As she watched, fascinated, he reached up and laid one hand over the twisted, discolored mass of scar around his left eye. His brow furrowed, and he drew a steadying breath, then another one, as he explored the disfigurement that had marked his life for the past three years. She waited, silently watching.

Slowly he lowered his hand. His eyes were still closed, and he drew a deep breath, then swallowed. "Go—go ahead," he said in a thick voice.

"All right," she said again. She lifted her hand. "This shouldn't hurt. Do you trust me?" she asked softly.

He gave a quick nod. "Yes. I trust you." But he groped for her free hand convulsively. Katara took it, feeling the warmth in his fingertips. As she reached out to Zuko's face, she raised his hand to her own face as well.

"Feel how much I love you," she whispered, and laid the healing water against his scar.

It was easier than Katara had thought it would be. She knew that her bending was affected by her emotions; she poured all her heart into this now. Zuko sat, eyes closed, without moving as the ruined area of his face diminished; his lips quivered, and he swallowed once or twice, but other than that made no sound. His hand was warm against her face; Katara squeezed his fingers so tightly she could feel the pulse in them. At last, she let the water fall away, and sat back, looking at what she had done. For a moment, neither of them spoke.

He's beautiful, Katara thought.

"Did…did it work?"

"Shhh…" Katara reached up and very gently brushed away some beads of water that were clinging to Zuko's newly restored eyelashes. He drew in his breath sharply as he felt her touch. His eyes opened to her smile.

"Look." She pooled her bending water in the air between them, then froze it into a mirror. "See?"

Zuko stared at his reflection. Slowly, as if in a dream, he reached out the fingertips of one hand and laid it against the ice, then touched his face again, running his fingers over the smooth, unbroken skin where his scar had been. He turned to look at her, with a trembling smile.

"You…you did it…" His smile widened into a shaky, disbelieving grin, and his shoulders lifted almost as if a huge burden had been taken off them. He looked very young in that moment, in the flickering yellow light; Katara thought she might be seeing the face of the boy he had been so long ago. His eyes shone gold. "You healed me. You actually…."

He made a noise that could have been a laugh or a sob, grabbed her hand and laid it against the side of his face. He put his arms around her, drawing her close, and then they were kissing, and he was holding her so tightly it hurt. She felt tears on her cheeks, and didn' t know whether it was because he was weeping or because she was.

They held each other and kissed again and again, laughing through their tears, as the ship's engines hummed around them. The propellers turned, driving the ship through the cold southern seas. Smoke trailed behind from the three smokestacks as the shore of the southern continent grew smaller and smaller in the distance. They were heading north, to the Fire Nation.

 _Finis._

 **Endnotes:** _Below follow a variety of endnotes related to technical matters that I'm sure aren't interesting to anyone but me._

For depictions of Water Tribe culture and terrain, I drew heavily on the culture of the Inuit and other tribal societies, some polar, some not. Much of the technology Katara's people uses in this story is Inuit; the culture depicted comes from a variety of different tribal societies. I also spent some time reading up on the trials and tribulations of the polar explorers, in particular, Robert Falcon Scott, the British explorer whose expedition was wiped out attempting to return from the South Pole after they had been beaten by Amundsen—his journal is online at Project Gutenberg. I strongly recommend it—it is a powerful evocation of tragedy and of humans struggling desperately against an incredibly harsh and unforgiving environment. I also recommend Into Thin Air, about the 1996 tragedy on Everest—it was reading that book that really got me thinking about just how incredibly difficult it was to survive in extreme conditions.

There's one trope I've seen batted around enough that it has essentially become fanon at this point: the idea that firebenders can self-thermoregulate. I find this idea convincing, but it kinda bugs me when fanwriters use this possibility to depict Zuko as somehow better adapted to cold-weather survival than Katara. The real Inuit have a variety of biological adaptations to cold weather—from unique blood-flow patterns to specialized body shapes—that give them an edge in the extreme temperatures of the Arctic and that have developed over thousands of years their people have lived there. Even if Katara has none of those, she still has been raised in this environment since birth and presumably would have developed an ability to withstand such temperatures that Zuko lacks. I do find the idea that Zuko can heat himself to deal with cold intriguing, but I suspect it comes with a tradeoff. One of the main problems with cold-weather survival is that the body requires great amounts of energy to fuel itself and maintain its own temperature against the harsh weather (that's one of the reasons why traditional Inuit diets place heavy reliance on blubber—blubber, or any fat, is a really great energy source). I'm willing to grant that Zuko could do some of that artificially with firebending, but I suspect it would be a massive energy drain on him to do so in the extreme Antarctic cold. Essentially, he would feel fine right up until the moment when he dropped dead from exhaustion. So that's where I was coming from when I wrote this—at the very least it's an interesting idea to me.

The whaling scene depicted here is not historically accurate—to the best of what I could find, Inuit whalers did not use the method where the entire boat was used as a drogue. Instead, Inuit whalers (much like other preindustrial whaling populations) would attach floats and drags to the whale to attempt to slow it down and wear it out so they could catch it and kill it. This technique had a relatively low success rate, which was why it was succeeded by the "fast-fish method" with the rise of industrial whaling in the 18th-19th centuries. I really liked the idea of Zuko being dragged along on a "Nantucket sleigh ride," so the explanation I came up with was that the Water Tribe method of whaling was undergoing a transition from the more ancient method to the more industrialized one…possibly due to advancements in harpoon technology including the introduction of iron harpoon heads. (Inuit harpoons were bone and flint, but if Sokka could manage a metal boomerang, the Water Tribe must have access to some metalworking technology.)

That's all I have to say. If you sat through all this boring stuff, kudos, and have a candy bar on me. Should I ever get "Fire Wedding" written, finished, and published, I hope to see you then!


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